The Kiss
by Penmasterap
Summary: Set about 8 years after Baldur's Gate II and Throne of Bhaal, Imoen is settling down and growing up...
1. Chapter One

Hey all, this is my first entry to this site, (although its not my first story) so I hope you'll enjoy it! It's still, as the title says, a work in progress and it tends to end rather abruptly so I am sorry about that, I will update! Please submit a review, and any feed back or suggestions you would like (please!), even if it is harsh, and I would love some suggestions for the title, which may potentially be "The Kiss". Thanks a bunch.

P.S. I do not own these characters, except maybe Merrick (and maybe one or two others), but even he was created using the game. Interplay and Black Isle and every other amazing person and company that works with the Forgotten Realms does, so don't sue me, because I love your work! Interspersed through the story there are snippets of NPS dialogue from Shadows of Amn and Throne of Bhaal. So, they're not mine!!! This is a tribute to the wonderful writing and comedy of the game, not an intentional cop-out. Don't sue me! The song in Chapter 16 or 17 is from Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings; so don't sue me, either! The characters Kneve and Rora are my friend BeccatheGreat's, who's story featuring these two lovely ladies is on , thanks to her for letting me use them and getting Imoen (and this author) out of a rut.

Cheers

I will break this up into chapters as I edit, so sorry if the chapters change, but it can't be helped!

Work In Progress ("The Kiss")

The sun shone brightly into the little clearing the two youths sat in, its rays making dancing patterns on the ground as it passed through the oak and maple leaves that seemed to cover the sky with their abundance. One of the figures stood, circling a particularly tall tree looking for the source of the unknown sound coming from the more lofty branches, but finding no more enlightenment there than from her spot on the ground she plunked back down. The boy of about seventeen that sat next to her continued to stare in silence around the clearing, trying to focus his energies on the latest lesson the scholars of Candlekeep had taught him. Although blessed with muscular strength beyond his years, Merrick Gorion, remained mystified by any study of the tome kind.

"Come on, you!" The girl, Imoen, blurted, imploringly, shoving the boy's shoulder with a small hand, "could you try to not work, for once, please Merrick?! Don't be such a stick-in-the-mud!" She added, waving a hand in front of his face, coming into contact with his nose, most likely on purpose. This, accompanied with her high, sweet voice, had brought him out of his trance and he sighed, pulling a hand through his disheveled blondish hair, as he looked over at her.

"I just can't get it, Im." Merrick said, a downcast look overcoming his features, "maybe magic isn't for me… I like dueling better anyway." Imoen shrugged, her hand still on her friend's shoulder,

"I can try to help you." She offered, a hesitant look on her face, her voice soft and slow. She already knew what his answer would be – no.

"Nah, you're the magician, not I." Merrick replied, his mood suddenly lightening, as though now that he had finally admitted to being terrible he didn't mind it at all. "I'll just have to tell Gorion…"

"Magician?!" Imoen implored, a scandalized look on her delicate face, "Who do you think you are, mister?" She got to her feet again, and still she was noticeably smaller than her companion. "I think I've let you off one to many times – this time you're mine!" She lunged at him, but Merrick smoothly avoided her "attack", his fighting instincts sharper than his magical ones.

"Nice try, Imoen." He called back to her as he leapt to his feet and dashed away into the trees surrounding the circular field. Merrick quickly scanned the foliage for somewhere to hide; he could certainly out fight his best friend but not out run her. The petite girl was fast, and she knew it, but the boy rapidly found a fallen tree to climb and he crouched down low using the skills Imoen herself, a budding thief, had taught him. Merrick gave a little laugh but then quietly scanned the woods for her. Before long he heard her enter the forest, the crunching of leaves and sticks giving her away.

"Hey, Ogre-breath?! You can't hide from me!" She called, but Merrick saw her tell-tale mauve tunic approach his hiding place long before she knew he was there.

"BOO!" The boy yelled, jumping from the fallen tree next to Imoen, as she screamed.

"Dumbbell!" She cried, taking off after him. The two friends chased each other around the clearing for awhile, throwing witty quips back and forth. Imoen fired a few blazes of color from her fingertips to chase Merrick, and the old man in the trees laughed to himself as he leaned on his stick, watching the girl's brown hair flow behind her in the wind as she tried to catch her taller, but slower friend. The wizard dressed in mostly red shook his head and sighed as he headed back to the path, on his way precisely to where these two had come from -the hallowed halls of Candlekeep. Elminster, for that was his name, sighed again, thinking of how these two young people's lives would turn. Of course he didn't know what loops fate had in store for them, but he did know something they did not. Though neither child knew it yet they were connected by more than friendship and orphan-hood, but by blood, of a sort. Both Imoen and Merrick were Bhaalspawn, products of the time of troubles. They both had the taint of the God of Murder in their veins, for he was their father and the wizard knew that this fact would lead their lives far from here and Candlekeep one day. He sighed for the trouble that was coming for them. But, even he knew fate was beyond meddling, so, for now he would let them stay children. With one last chuckle he hobbled off down the path to their home.

"I WILL get you!" Imoen vowed, diving for Merrick again and missing.

"Really?" Asked the boy, lazily. Usually the girl would have caught him by now, being more agile and quick than he, but today she seemed off so he was enjoying the victory.

"Yeah," Imoen replied, a resolve in her voice that worried Merrick into dashing away from his stationary spot, "you bet I will." Catching up to him Imoen leaped ahead and her hands came into contact with her friend, pushing him over as the two of them fell to the ground, laughing. Imoen looked down at Merrick from her spot atop of the boy, one arm on either side of him, keeping him prisoner. "Told ya," she said simply, sticking out her tongue, a smug smile of victory on her face. Slowly a grin crept onto Merrick's face too and Imoen thought it was simply him admitting defeat, but another thought had crossed the teen's mind. "Yeah you win, Im." He said, before swiftly smashing a leg into her own, knocking her flat onto him, her arms the only thing keeping her up as Merrick laughed to kill himself. "Ooooffff." Imoen blurted the wind knocked from her as landed on Merrick with a thud, "why I outta…" She trailed off, the frustrated look on her face gradually dissipating as she looked into his grey eyes. Suddenly they were so full of light she had never noticed before. Without warning or reason she realized how toned his body felt through his tunic; how pleasant it felt against her. A funny bubbly nervous feeling snuck into her stomach and she licked her lips uncertainly, her throat very dry. "Merrick I think we better head home…" She said, but somehow -Imoen never did fully realize how, even years later- somehow she seemed to be moving in the opposite direction, closer to him, not further away. Her sentence trailed off as their lips met, gently, in a softly tentative adolescent kiss. The potential mage marveled at how nice he tasted and Merrick, who was just as surprised at the embrace, wondered how his heart could actually beat so fast without leaping out of his chest. His hands left the grass and crept up her back, emotions rising from the bottom of him. Running his fingers through her dark hair Merrick shifted his weight and the two rolled over in the grass, continuing their now almost passionate embrace with fervor neither knew they had in them. And then suddenly it was over; both youths had opened their eyes and were staring at each other, in a happy disbelieving sort of way, which quickly became an awkward silence. Merrick's hands lingered on her body, wanting to touch her, but he hastily sat up, sensing the nervousness in the air, and moved next to Imoen. Both of them spoke not a word, but instead stared straight ahead, numb. They stayed like that for a while until Imoen couldn't take it any longer and decided to be the one to break the quiet, "Merrick." She started, but was cut off by Merrick's "Imoen," spoken at the same instant. The silly blunder seemed to break the ice and the friends laughed, uneasily at first, but then harder until they were both on their feet and taking the trail back to Candlekeep, their romp apparently forgotten… although when Imoen looked over at the boy, blushing slightly as she remembered his hands on her skin, she thought she saw him quickly look away… They did not discuss the kiss…


	2. Chapter Two

Imoen awoke abruptly from her dream, rubbing a hand over her sleeping face as her muddled thoughts slowly came into focus. Although time and battle had taken their toll, leaving scars and weariness on the women she was still plainly the same Imoen she had been ten years earlier in the clearing; the same brightness shone from her eyes, despite the maturity that had stationed itself where innocence had once been… _The clearing_. It was then she remembered what she had been dreaming about -her and Merrick, before their lives had become so twisted and sour. Of a time when they were free to run around in the sunshine without worrying what was behind the next bend. The young woman slowly got to her feet, her tiny house filled with the dewy light of the morning. The house was really no more than a hut, with a thatched roof and simple board floors; it was L-shaped and contained her bed and night-table, a small table and chairs, a hearth with a large caldron on the fire and, in the far corner, a working apothecary and magic lab. Shuffling to restock the fire Imoen wondered about her dream; about why she was dreaming of Merrick so often, and she let out a long breath. She hadn't seen him in years. More importantly she wondered why she was dreaming of the kiss. The friends had never shared another and had always become awkward when one would try to breach the subject, the other pulling the conversation in another direction; in fact Imoen had almost forgotten that it was a real memory and not a dream itself it. Years had passed and the subject seemed even more taboo when the best friends had learned, through the murder of their foster father Gorion and their epic travels through Faerun, that they were in fact brother and sister, of a sort, linked through the lineage of Bhaal. In reality they shared no blood, but the names stuck and Merrick suddenly became "Big Brother" as far as Imoen was concerned. Smiling at this memory Imoen shook her head slowly, the kiss floating back into her head as she prepared a small breakfast. She couldn't deny that she had enjoyed that kiss, the truth was she had always had feelings outside comradery for Merrick, but friendship, and their shared fathers, both adoptive and deity, seemed to cloud it, and now, looking back on it, it had been so long ago. She had seemingly let go of those feelings, and she didn't want to think about them now. "Oh you're a grown woman." She spat at herself, "what would Jos say if he knew what was running through your mind? Anyway, Merrick's got Jaheria. Just stop thinking about it!" The fact was she couldn't, she had missed Merrick since they parted ways outside of Athkatla almost six years ago and in the brief visits they'd shared since nothing seemed to have changed. Sighing and trying to put the memory behind her Imoen chalked the lucid dream up to a mixture of late night food and missing her friend, and went about making breakfast.

As she was finishing up there was a soft knock at the door and Imoen didn't even have time to stand up when a young man, with a distinctly boyish look and charm about him, entered the home. "Jos!" Imoen greeted, a wide smile breaking her stony demeanor, "good morning!" The thin, dark hared man made his way to the table and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Morning, love." He said, grinning, placing both hands on the table. "Did I ever tell you how much your eyes sparkle and-"

"Jos…" Imoen cut him off, embarrassed, raising her eyes to the ceiling, a blush climbing over her face, "don't. You know how much I hate being told how great I am…" She mocked. "If it wasn't enough that I had to live knowing how lovely I am…"

"Ah, but sunflower, it is what we bards do." Jos was indeed a bard; one who had stopped into Candlekeep a year ago and never left, finding he enjoyed the library as much as the open road. "I can find as much song material in those tomes as I can out in the wild." He had once told Imoen, "So here I shall stay." The youth was slightly younger than the mage but had taken an instant shining to her; composing for her songs and sonnets he would recite at Winthrop's tavern and slowly winning over Imoen's heart. Imoen had never been a harlot but she had had her share of men come and go through Candlekeep, and she knew that it was different with Jos. He had somehow filled in where Merrick had left, her lifelong feelings for her best friend shifting to the musician. She loved Jos and knew they would have a life together. Getting up to take her things to the basin next to the caldron Imoen was caught in her admirer's arms as she was returning to the table and he kissed her. "Why so glum?" He asked, brushing a lock of hair from her face, lovingly, "what's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing… Had an odd dream last night is all, you know, too much wine before bed, not enough of you." She half lied, putting on a smile which was quickly replaced by a genuine one as he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her again, more single-mindedly this time. Soon they were fumbling with each other's clothing and fervently making their way towards her bed – all thoughts of Merrick and his kiss forgotten for the time being.

Lying in her lover's arms Imoen smiled, her own tightly holding Jos to her. Their lovemaking had been passionate and swift and the young man had his eyes closed, his head resting against her naked chest, which was still slightly damp from their encounter. "Im?" He suddenly spoke and Imoen was startled out of dreaming, a frown crossing her face for a moment before clearing, "Imoen," She adjusted, trying not to sound finicky. That was Merrick's name for her, and his alone. It may have sounded trivial and small to an onlooker but, to her, it meant everything. "Sunflower." Jos corrected, now smiling and looking up at her, at an odd angle, before rolling over, draped across her. "Yes?" She asked, wondering why a man of such fluent language suddenly had so few words. "Do you love me?"

"Yes." She replied, drawing the word out in a questioning manner, brow furrowed, "you know I do, you silly sack of words. Why, Jos?" She added, suspiciously.

"Because I love you," He answered simply, his dark eyes glossing with affection, "and I want to spend the rest of my mortal years with you." He added, leaning off to one side of the bed and returning into her view a second later. Imoen could almost see what was coming but her brain wouldn't let it sink it. "He's not… he can't… he – oh my gods he is…" She thought, tears welling in her eyes as he produced a simple, but beautiful ring, with a single small diamond inlayed in the gold. "Will you spend the rest of yours with me, Imoen?" Jos asked, biting his lip nervously. A smile that started small and grew to envelope Imoen's entire face put his mind at ease and the mage broke into tears as she nodded, too choked with emotion to reply. "Yes." She finally said, quietly, giving him a playful hit, "but whats with all this formality… you bards will never cease to amaze me… come here and kiss me." Their lips met, tentatively. "Yes, yes!" She repeated, wiping her face, embarrassed. Jos let out breath he didn't know he had been holding and leaned up to kiss her tear streaming face before slipping the ring onto her finger. The pair started at each other for a moment before slowly becoming one again.

In the next few weeks people around Candlekeep were kept busy with gossip of the two lovers. Word of their wedding spread through the tiny Keep like wildfire and soon Imoen and Jos had their hands full with well-wishers and were at wits end from the constant smiles and pseudo-discreet pointing and whispers.

"Have you seen Gorion's girl?" People would ask, "Why I would have never believed it if I hadn't seen the ring with my own two eyes!"

"Her, settle down?"

"Well I say it's about time. No more of this adventurer nonsense, thank Torm."

"If you ask me she's a sweet girl, just had her head in the wrong place…" These comments tailed the woman wherever she went, and it had been nice, at first, all the attention and gifts and laughter that followed them around town, but now even Jos was getting a little antsy. If it wasn't enough that she was already the star member of the tiny Keep, being an ex-adventurer and powerful archmage, but now the reputation she had faught so hard to get rid of since meeting Jos was coming back to bite her. "I never thought she'd grown up!" They whispered, "glad to see she's finally left all that childishness behind." And she had, for Jos – or so she thought. It was true she had missed the casual trouble she used to make, and yeah, it was hard not to crack a joke a minute, especially with old 'Puffguts' Winthrop still around, but all in all she enjoyed the new identity she had created. No longer was she a child in people's eyes, but rather a woman, ready to take on the world, and yet, willing to settle down and create her own. She liked it… despite the fact that sometimes, late a night when she couldn't sleep, she felt like it was a façade put on for everyone else. That everything about her was changed, and maybe, just maybe, not for the better.

"Sunflower, lets go away." Imoen looked up from her scroll and turned to see him standing in the doorway of her - "soon to be our" she mentally corrected - home. "What Jos?" She asked, returning to her studies, one ear on her fiancé. "Let's go away." Jos repeated, letting out a despondent sigh as he walked further into the hut, approaching Imoen from behind. "Just for awhile, the weddings not for some time and I'm getting sick of being this place's personal gossip column… lets just go out on the road…" He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, "what do you say?"

"Jos," Imoen started, a tiny bit exasperated, "don't be silly." We can't just pack up and leave, and its dangerous on the road." She added, remembering Irenicus as her thoughts shifted to the many scars lining her body, "_and_ we've got a wedding to plan. I have to hunt down all the guests and find a dress and-" This time Jos cut her off, "oh, we don't have to go far." He implored, "Only a short jaunt. Oh how about to the Friendly Arm Inn… it'll be like a pre-wedding honeymoon." He added, with a grin and a playful nip at her ear, but the woman didn't really hear him.

The Friendly Arm was where she and Merrick had begun the journey that changed both their lives. There they had met Jaheria and Khalid, two dear friends. Khalid was now long gone, but Jaheria… well she and Merrick had found comfort and solace in each other's arms. Imoen loved Jaheria dearly but still she couldn't help the pang of jealousy that stabbed at her when she thought of the two together. Shaking off this memory her thoughts floated back to The Friendly Arm, where she had in fact died for a time, when a sorcerer had ambushed her and Merrick on the steps of the Inn, posing as a friend… Suddenly she remembered the searing hot pain of the spell stealing the life from her. The last few images she though she would ever see – a harshly clear view of the battle, slowed down enough in her mind for her to realize what was happening; the weight of the sword leaving her hand, limply, crashing to the ground; a fuzzy blue sky, turning dark as she herself hit the earth. The sounds of Merrick's scream as he turned and saw. Her last mortal memory was of his form, sprinting toward her, face twisted in anguish, and then there was the cold dark of death; nothingness. Not true death, of course, for the priestess there had been able to resurrect her; "blackness and then like, 'oops, here you go!" she had once said, but she remembered how overcome she had been to see Merrick again. More than that she recalled his tear stricken face peering into hers as she awoke, and the new stream that had followed once her friend had realized she was indeed alive. That was the first time Imoen had seen Merrick weep since they had been small children. Sure she knew he had on occasion, like when she found him after Gorion had been killed; she saw it in his face but he never shed a tear in front of her… God, how young she had been then. How things had changed – changed her – those times became the normal. Battles and bloodshed, monsters and life on the road… torture. Imoen shuddered at those thoughts especially. Even she hadn't let herself recall what Irenicus had done to her in the end. Even Jos didn't know all he had done. How he had touched her, more than physically. She had grown up in those two years, from a child to a woman, and it had all been with Merrick. Imoen suddenly snapped back to reality and felt a twinge of guilt as she realized it was Jos' arms that were around her as she thought fondly of Merrick. "Imoen?" Jos called her name, "Imoen, you in there?" He smiled and Imoen let out a little laugh, "sorry, I was thinking…" He shrugged and kissed her shoulder where her robe had slid off. "Just think about the offer, okay?" He called as he exited the home, "I have to go see Winthrop." With that he was gone and Imoen was left with her dreaded thoughts… "Oh, stop." She reprimanded aloud, "You're marrying Jos because you love _him_, not Merrick. You never loved Merrick, not in that way… you're just nervous…" In truth the thought of settling down for good scared her. No more out in the Wilds with old friends, just Candlekeep, and books, and a husband. "Oh, just stop!" She said to the empty hut, slamming the book closed and leaning back in her chair. "Stop this, you can't love Merrick, you can't. Damnit, woman, when did you get like this."

Imoen exited the tavern, smiling to herself and waving to one of the Brothers as they crossed paths. She had found Jos as planned and told him that she had changed her mind; she would love to go to the Friendly Arm with him. What she – what _they_ – needed was a getaway; an adventure. They had agreed to meet again that night at the tavern, once his shift was done. Whistling a happy tune she went for a stroll around Candlekeep, the circular main road passing all shops and houses she needed to visit. Rounding a bend, arms loaded with supplies for her magic and their trip, she saw the main gate come into view. She saw the head guard, a large burly fellow, arguing with someone. Grinning at the guard's foul temper, which she knew to be nothing more than talk, she made her way over to give him a piece of her mind. She called out in her sweet voice, "Heya, Thrar, would you stop bothering the visitors, just let them in!" She began as she passed the supply wagon and the gate came into view, but the rest of her hackle was stunted as she gasped, jaw agape. Dropping the contents of her armload she froze. There in the gateway stood a large man, covered in scars and bruises and dressed in what seemed to be all that remained of a once grand showing of plate mail. His hair was slightly matted with dirt, sweat and what looked like blood, but it was still an unmistakable blond color and his eyes were a piercing steely grey. "Merrick?" Imoen managed to voice, softly, her lips trembling, barely keeping her emotion bottled up. "Hey, Im." The man spoke, his voice deeper than she remembered, but unmistakably his. He gave a mischievous grin, "You want to tell this guy to let me in?"


	3. Chapter Three

The two friends sat in Imoen's hut, the fire flickering off the walls and casting weird shadows onto their faces. Imoen's near state of shock had almost worn off and the two were sitting in an uncomfortable silence. She had convinced Thrar to let Merrick in then she had sent him to the baths and rushed over to Winthrop's to purchase him some clothes. She thanked the gods that she didn't see Jos at the tavern, guessing he was probably in the cellar getting more wine, and she hurried out, packages in hand. When she returned to the house Merrick was there, sitting with his back to her, next to the fire. Through his tattered shirt she could see the taunt muscles in his back and unwillingly her hear skipped a beat. "Geeze, Imoen, when did you start feeling things like that for him?" Imoen thought incredulously, stepping in. Kicking herself she cleared her throat and offered the packages to him. Now they both sat next to the fire, not speaking for a long time. "Merrick… what are you doing here?" She finally asked bluntly. "Well that wasn't the greeting I was expecting." He replied, grinning. "No, I mean… I'm glad you're here… but it's been, what, six, seven years?" The swordsman shrugged, "I missed it here, and I needed a visit… I missed you." He added, a small, embarrassed smile playing on his lips. "Merrick… I missed you too." The two started at each other for a minute, "I can't believe this…" Imoen finally gasped, a grin breaking her face, and the tension that seemed to fill the room. "You're actually here."

"Yeah, I am," The man replied, looking around, "nice place, by the way, it looks cozy…" His eyes scanned the room, moving from the bed to the flickering flames to the potion table and finally coming to rest on her. She couldn't but notice as he gazed at her, looking her up and down. "You look… great." Merrick said, truthfully, a small hint of… something in his voice. "Thanks," She replied, meekly, "you look great too… well okay you look like a pile of dung, but…" She smiled, taking in his newer scars, ugly bruising and bandaged arm. "Sorry." Imoen added, laughing. "No, no, its okay, I know I'm not exactly a pleasant sight." He interjected, raising his hands to signal his approval. "Well there you are wrong…" The mage thought, blushing and smiling in a self-conscious sort of way. "What?" Merrick asked, noticing the flush. Imoen shook her head, "nothing… hey where's Jaheria?" She asked, innocently, trying to change the subject. A dark look came over Merrick's features, angry and hurt at the same time, and she instantly regretted inquiring. "Jaheria is dead." He replied, gruffly, standing up and walking to the stone fireplace. "What? No. No, it can't… Oh, Merr, I'm so sorry…" Imoen replied, her gaze vacant. She felt like a ton of bricks had hit her square in the gut. Dead? Jaheria? It couldn't be. She felt a swell of tears and let a few leak out as she stared off into space, numb with skepticism she knew to be false. "Six months ago," Merrick spoke in a hushed voice, as if the grief would escalate with his voice, "bandits… the attack was sudden… we fought and I thought we'd got them all…" He trailed off for a moment, "we were standing on the road, trying to recover from it when and arrow, it came from the woods, went through her back, clean through, I could see the tip through her shirt… it was like slow motion, the way it hit her, how she flinched and cried out and fell into me… but, it was," his voice broke, "too late… She died in my arms." Imoen looked up and saw Merrick had his back to her and was standing with his hands against the stone of the fireplace. "Merrick, oh Merr, don't worry, you don't have to-"

"No." He replied, firmly. Coldly, even. "I do. She would have wanted you to hear. She always loved you like a sister… She'd want you to know. To hear, from me." The swordsman continued, telling the story in a slow, vacant voice. "She told me it was her time, that nature had intended for it to be this way, that I couldn't change the course of fate, and that she would always love me… I held her, rocked her, and she kissed me and then she slipped away… she died how she wanted to, fighting… but more importantly outdoors… she loved it outside…" He stopped. "She's gone, Im… she's really gone." Imoen wiped her eyes and got to her feet, making her way towards her best friend. She wrapped her arms around his body and he let his head fall to her shoulder. The two stayed like that for a long time, and Imoen realized this was the first time they had embrace for years. She squeezed him tighter and he flinched. She looked down over his shoulder and saw his back was covered in long gashes. Gazing at his arms she saw the same thing. "Merrick, you're really hurt." She said, surprised, stepping back, "let me see." She outstretched her hands,

"No, Imoen, I'm fine." He said avoiding her touch for reasons he didn't fully understand. "You are not, liar." She scoffed, rolling her eyes and reaching for his tunic again. It came off easily and she looked down at his bare chest, which was cut and battered as well. "Geeze Merrick what did you do?" Imoen asked her voice low and shocked. His whole body seemed to be a living stab wound. There were gashes, burns, lashes marks and even what Imoen believed to be claw marks on almost every surface if his body that she could see. "I was a slave, Imoen…" He replied simply, to her stunned face, "in the spice mines in the south… I was sold as a slave miner." She didn't reply, too taken back to answer. This man, her Big Brother, the man who, on more than one occasion had helped her free slaves and miners alike from the depths of earthly hell, actually taken prisoner? "No."

"Yes." He replied, wincing at every touch and Imoen went to the cabinet in the corner and brought out a vial of acid green ointment that she began to rub onto the more serious wounds. Imoen tried not to think about what she was doing, in touching Merrick this way. Coupled with her dreams and thoughts about him of late she felt a rising of heat and urges she was shameful to think about, let alone admit. His back done, Imoen began to rub the ointment into Merrick's arms and then chest, trying hard to focus on medicine, not him. She could smell him she was so close; smell the woods and metal and dirt off him –smell the blood off him. Something in that smell… she rested her hands against his chest, feeling him move under her fingers she ran her hands over him. She wasn't rubbing ointment any longer, just touching Merrick and suddenly she found herself crying. Merrick was breathing harder than normal; it was such a rush to be in Imoen's presence again, and these new emotions…he mentally shook himself and his eyes met the girl's – no woman's – gaze. He brushed a tear from her cheek and took her hands in his, the touch more than he ever remembered. Running his fingers through hers he found his voice again, "Imoen, don't cry… I'm fine… it's not as bad as it looks…"

"Oh, no, not that. I'm not _that_ delicate…" Imoen replied, feeling silly for being so soft. All her life she had tried to make Merrick see that she was as tough as he was; that she wasn't just a little girl that he had to look after. "It's… I honestly thought I was never going to see you again…" She spat out, "and now you're here – you're _here._" She looked up at him again, feeling silly once more. "You must think that's pretty dumb, heh? Big, tough, Imoen, Mage-extraordinaire crying over… nothing. I just thought I'd lost you…" She saw him smiled. Merrick shook his head, still caressing her hands with his own. "Nah, Im… I'm really here. You think I wouldn't come back and drag you back out there? You think I would just leave? After all we've been through and done… I've known you forever, Im, since before I could walk… you're my best friend, I wouldn't do that." He said, truthfully. It hurt him to see her cry, especially because it was over him. He grinned to hide his emotions and she leaned in against him, comforted to be back with him again. "Imoen, what's that?" Merrick suddenly spoke. He had her hand in his and was gazing down at the ring that she was wearing. Imoen bit her lip; she had forgotten she had Jos' ring on… The woman raised her eyes to his, "I'm getting married, Merrick." Merrick's response was hardly what she had imagined. She had pictured a tough, older brother spiel followed by rejoicing and hugs - instead Merrick's face went uncommonly blank. He stared ahead for awhile, opening and closing his mouth slightly every so often, nostrils flaring a little. "You're what?" He asked, inquisitively, face scrunched up a little as he tilted his head, wondering if he had made it up in his mind. "I'm getting married, silly" She repeated, a little thrown off.

"Why?" He blurted, taking a step back and releasing her hand, Imoen couldn't believe her ears. Angrily she slammed the ointment bottle down on the table, "what do you mean _why_? Dumbbell, because I'm in love with someone, Merrick!"

"No you're not!" He yelled back, eyes narrowed as he surveyed his friend.

"I'm not? Oh how would you know? Since when were you so high and mighty? You don't know _anything_." She spat, the two of them now feet apart. "You just storm in here with no explanation, into _my_ life again, pulling the old 'I'm your best friend, and I'd never leave' stuff, just because Jaheria got herself killed and you've got nowhere to go and no one-"

"You leave her out of this!" Merrick roared, slamming his fist down onto the table, "and what shit? I'm sorry if I thought that maybe my friend would want a visit."

"A visit? You come here acting like everything is normal, like everything should just go back to exactly how it should be; well it can't, Merrick, it can't. You drop me like a sack of wheat and then just expect for things to be good when you decide to come back? I have feelings too! We haven't seen each other for years, Merrick, and there was a time when we went days and it seemed like forever… you _did _leave me, so don't give me that crap like you didn't or wont." Old emotions had clearly arisen and the two of them stared at each other, Imoen seriously debating which spell would work fastest on him, Merrick wondering how fast he could get out of Candlekeep. "You just left, like I was nothing. You don't even know me anymore, Merrick, and you tell me I'm not in love with someone! I'm not a girl anymore, I'm a woman, and I have feelings, if that's not too far fetched for you to understand or realized. Not that I would expect you to pick up on anything like that, not like before… Shesh." She spat, enraged, fire leaping from her eyes. "How in the abyss would you know?!"

"Because I know you, Imoen," He retorted, not screaming anymore, but talking in a firm, matter of fact way, "and if you were in love I would have known the second I walked through that door, without you telling me!" This shut Imoen up fast; she closed her mouth, no retort seeming enough. "And what feelings? I've always read you like a book." He stopped for a minute, letting everything in the room sink in. Finally Imoen uncovered her words and said, "You're wrong… I do love him… And your reaction would indicate that its you, who has a problem with him, not me…" Sinking onto her bed she covered her face with her hands and started crying again. "If there is something you want to say to me, say it" Feeling deflated Merrick eventually made his way quietly towards her bed and crouched down in front of it. "Im, I'm sorry… I didn't mean to make you cry… I'm happy for you, I am, I was just taken back." He pried her hands open and lifted her chin with a finger, "really, I am… but Imoen… are you sure?" He sighed, "I've just… just now realized I've been wanting to do this…" He looked into her deep brown eyes with his own and found himself tilting his head towards her, lips giving way to mouth and tongue. Suddenly she pulled back, "Merrick, I can't…don't make me do this… I love him… you can't…" She whimpered, her voice pitiful and flat, tears coming again. Despite her words her hands lingered on him. "I can't… Jos."

"Yes, what about Jos?" Came the bard's voice from the nearby door, uncommonly cold. "Who are you?" He demanded as Merrick stood slowly and Imoen jumped back, the pit in her stomach growing larger. "Jos!" She cried, jumping from the bed, "this is Merrick…" She hoped that maybe his name would make the whole situation seem a little less scandalous. "Ah… Merrick." Jos said, the name rolling off his tongue like poison, "so nice to finally meet you." He added, and Merrick got the idea that Jos would rather have met a basilisk, despite what he said. "Same." The sell sword said, gruffly. "Imoen," Jos suddenly looked over at his fiancée, "could I talk to you outside, perchance?" The two lovers exited the house and Merrick sunk into a chair, feeling drained and dim-witted. From outside he could hear snippets of Imoen and Jos' conversation, carrying on the night air. "Imoen, what's going on?" Came the bard's voice, suddenly meeker than it had been. "Nothing, Jos, he just showed up… I had no idea, and it's just a bit emotional…"

"Really?" Said the other man, his voice disbelieving, "since when did you solve emotional problems with kissing?" Merrick heard Imoen groan, "you saw?" She asked, weakly, "I… it was, it was only a friendship kiss…"

"Friendship? Well then what are we, chums? You've never kissed _me_ like that and we're getting married!" Jos spat at her, clearly losing his temper. Merrick thought that such angry words sounded so odd coming from such a well versed and melodic tongue. "Jos, please, could you not overreact?"

"Overreact?! Well next time you walk in on your fiancée and another man let me know how you handle it!"

"Jos! It was nothing…" Imoen said.

"Yeah" thought Merrick, remembering her embrace "nothing…"

Merrick didn't even look at Imoen as he left, he simply slipped out the door as the sparing lovers reentered the hut and he hightailed it to Winthrop's where he was met with many a loud voices welcoming him home. Too tired and upset to talk to anyone he downed a quick ale with the bartender, "on the house, Merrick!", of course, and rented a room in the upper Inn. He found sleep hard to come by. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, he ignored the sounds of lovers above him, and laughter below. Once his candle has burnt itself out he wandered to the window and gazed down at the town, picking out Imoen's hut, and picturing her smiling face, until back in bed, it lulled him to sleep. The next morning he awoke with a start and looked around. It took him a moment to remember where he was, and another before he remembered what had happened with Imoen. This was not he had had planned at all. He wanted their reunion to be sweet and happy. He had wanted them to be going out on the road again, to terrorize the town with their antics and jokes; he wanted to reknow his friend. Now they weren't talking, he had probably split up her marriage that was not even in existence yet and gotten further away from her than he had been… but they had kissed… just like so long ago in that clearing.

Merrick wasn't sure when his feelings for Imoen had started to change, but he was willing to bet his last gold piece it was before last night. There had always been something between them, being best friends, practical siblings and adventuring companions together for so long and Merrick could remember times on the road where he was drawn to her, but only in passing… it was a different kind of love he had for Imoen, a constant one. He remembered last night -their hasty embrace- and he sighed, and was surprised when he found himself longing for it again, for his lips against hers, for her body to be pressed into his- "Woah, man, stop." He said aloud, getting up from the bed and pacing around the room. She had changed him. Seeing her as a woman, in a new light. He knew now… He wandered over to the window and stuck his head out into the morning air overlooking the town; his eyes couldn't help but go to the little hut on the Westside. Resolve hit Merrick like a bucket of icewater and he pulled the window closed and got hastily dressed, determined to make amends with Imoen. Racing down the stairs Winthrop looked up from where he stood on a small stepstool, apparently trying to reach something high up. "Where you goin' so fast like?" He asked, in his usual chipper manner, "to see Imoen." Merrick replied, racing out the door, Winthrop calling after him, "if ya sees Jos tell him I needs him in today, in case he forgot it." Merrick stopped dead in his tracks, "what?" He called back, from the door. "Jos, ya know, Imoen's sweet thing, he gots to work today, let'm know." Merrick nodded silently and slowly left the Inn. So he would have to avoid both places he thought he was welcome: Imoen's and The Inn. "Great." He muttered, walking the rest of the way to the house.

Merrick received no answer when he knocked softly on Imoen's door, and he peered in the darkened window and saw no movement from inside so he knocked again. Upon getting no answer the second time he looked around, debating whether or not to go inside. "Ah hell, she's my best friend, after all." He told himself, and he pushed open the door without a sound. His eyes took a minute to get used to the dim light of the home, for the fire had burned down and both windows were covered almost completely. He scanned the room and saw Imoen's bed, still occupied. "Sleepyhead." He thought, smiling, but his smile quickly went sour when he saw that it was indeed occupied, by Imoen _and_ Jos. Trying to not think about what this entailed he stared for a minute, the mental images making his stomach do funny jealous flips. His eyes fell upon the sleeping Imoen and lingered. She was draped as though ready for a portrait: obviously naked but tastefully covered. The blankets fell in such a way that Merrick had to pry his eyes away from her soft shoulders and the tiny bit of her side that was visible through the gaps in the sheet. Merrick had never noticed how long her legs were, especially for her being so tiny, or how soft her skin looked; how much he wanted to touch her and hold her. Oh how desperately he wanted to know the rest of the image. The parts of her concealed by fabric. He wanted to be the one lying next to her sleeping body. Merrick suddenly realized why he had never known he had feelings for this petite woman; he had _always_ been in love with her. There was no build to the relationship, no getting to know her, no gradual feelings turning slowly into love, like there had been with Jaheria or anyone else: it had always been just love, plain and simple – constant. "I'm in love with you, Imoen Gorion." He spoke softly, in a dejected sort of way, "and I came too late…" He looked to the sleeping form of Jos, who was buried completely under the mountain of blankets he seemed to have unknowingly pulled from his lover's body, and swordsman had the urge to kick him. Merrick then did a daring thing and approached the bed, leaning in and kissing the sleeping brow of his friend. She didn't stir and he smiled, leaving the house to its quiet and dark.

Merrick whistled to himself cheerfully as he left the library catacombs. He had visited the plaque bearing his father's name, talking to Gorion as if he was still alive. He had told his father's grave all about his quest through the Sword Coast down to Amn; the same one that had claimed his father's life. He spoke of Irenicus and Bodhi, of Jaheria, Minsc, Kivan and Yoshimo, every single other figure that had come and gone, and of Athkatla, and how he felt Gorion would have loved to stay there. Merrick had also spent a great deal of time talking about Imoen; first telling him how proud he would have been of her and telling of how grand a woman she had become, and then relating the tale of the last few days to the grave, as if it somehow was going to remedy all that had gone wrong between the two of them. Finally he had said a prayer for his father's soul and promised he would return. Kissing the plaque lightly and touching it with his palm he left, ascended the stairs up to the main library and found his way out into Candlekeep. The sun still wasn't high enough to fully breach the walls of the city and Merrick wondered if Imoen was awake yet as he strolled back to the Inn, gathered his few belongings and made it a point of stopping at Winthrop's bar before leaving the Keep. He had unfinished business to attend to…


	4. Chapter Four

Imoen was dreaming. She dreamt of the clearing again, where she and Merrick had shared the kiss. In this dream the sky was black, not blue and cheerful, and Merrick was nowhere to be seen. As the mage circled the field she called her friend's name, but no sound came out, as if she was mute when suddenly he came rushing in; but not on his own accord. Merrick was naked and tied at ankles and wrists with rope, locked with chains and behind him were twelve kobolds, running at him with whips. In her dream Imoen ran to Merrick and saw he was bleeding fresh from wounds not healed. She knelt beside the place he had half collapsed in the grass and helped him up, looking up to see not kobolds but ghosts of bandits everywhere. Imoen tried to scream but found that in this place sound made no difference and she shut her mouth, keeping close to Merrick. Merrick had gotten to his feet now, but with difficulty, and blood poured freely from the wounds he sported, splashing onto Imoen's clothes. She wrapped her arms around him, crying soundlessly, her tears mixing on his chest with his blood. Suddenly Imoen heard the first noise in this place: the wiz of an arrow as it came soaring through the air, striking Merrick through the back. The man cried out soundlessly in pain and fell to the ground; Imoen screamed and dropped down, holding the warrior in her frail arms. Merrick looked up at her, his eyes half glazed, a pitiful and weary look in them, and she leaned down to kiss him. This embrace was soft and delicate but also so full of a passion she couldn't begin to explain. They both knew this would be the last they shared and it was as urgent and needy as it was fair and simple. Imoen felt his lips go slack against hers and she opened her eyes to see Merrick doubled over, life gone from his body. The mage let out a heartbroken sob, which turned into a scream of utter fury, which shook the clearing to its core, even though it was silent. She felt a rage like no other come over her; her hair had turned jet black, her eyes following suit and she stood, lightning coming from her fingertips as she stared down at the body of her slain friend and lover. Her change in disposition only seemed to darken the mood of this strange place and Imoen saw lightning strike in the distance. Seeking revenge she scanned the clearing and spotted a figure in the distance which was immediately drawn towards her by some unknown force. Lifting her hands to induce pain on the one who had stolen so much from her she found herself face to face with Gorion. As sudden as the change had come over her it vanished and she felt drained and overcome. "Come child." Gorion spoke, his voice as soft as she remembered it, "revenge is not always the wisest course, is it?" He smiled, "and maybe that's not a lesson _you_ should have to learn." Gorion looked pointedly at the fallen shape of Merrick. "If you do not wish to lose more the way others have lost go, my child, and find him… teach him what I have taught you…" Suddenly he was gone. Imoen looked around for her foster father but found she was now alone in the vastness of the clearing. She broke down and cried, heart retching sobs before throwing up in the grass, sheer exhaustion overcoming her body. In the stages before waking from this hellish dream Imoen knew what Gorion had meant. Merrick had gone… he had gone to find revenge, and if she did not find him first and persuade him otherwise she would not only lose him, but lose herself as well…


	5. Chapter Five

Imoen awoke with a gasp and clung to the bed as if her life depended on it. Jos was already gone, apparently to the tavern, so she had the bed to herself. It was odd of him to leave without waking her but she remembered the words exchanged the evening before and sighed. "He didn't seem to have a problem with me last night…" She said aloud, bitterly, a little angry at him, but as she climbed out of bed, wrapping the sheet around herself, she didn't dwell. "At least now I can go talk to Merrick without Jos thinking anything of it…" She thought. She shook her head, sadly, remembering a time when she had been so carefree and happy. Nothing like this would have ever bothered her… but that was before Merrick had started to weigh on her mind and -she shuddered at this thought- before Irenicus. Climbing slowly into her clothes she noticed the second pack of things she had bought at Winthrop's the night before – supplies she had intended to give to Merrick. With this thought she suddenly remembered why she had awoken so abruptly, "Merrick." She said aloud, recalling the horrible dream, "I have to go after him…"

It took Imoen less than an hour to pack her supplies and find her old leather armor and weapons, to tidy up the house incase she was gone for long, and to write Jos a letter, explaining. She couldn't bear to do it in person because she knew he would protest and think she was running off with Merrick and because she didn't want to face him… her note was simple and to the point:

_Jos,_

_I have to leave for awhile… I don't know where_

_I am going or for how long I will be away, but I_

_know I must find Merrick. I have to stop him from_

_doing something terrible, for myself as much as he._

_I promise I will come back, and do not worry, I _

_love you still. Please do not be angry, or come_

_after me… I know what I am doing._

Take care, my love Imoen 

She left the note lying on the table and looked around the tiny house, surveying it for anything missed. Noting nothing she opened the door and marched out of Candlekeep, telling Thrar she was merely going for a picnic lunch in the woods, to which he promptly complained about. "Darn ants, always getting in my sandwiches…" he grumbled, opening the gate and waving. "See you tonight, Imoen."

"Yeah, see ya." She called, looking back at the Keep's walls and, for the first time ever, wondering if she would see them again.


	6. Chapter Six

The first day of travels had gone very well for Imoen. She hadn't run into anything bigger than a squirrel and had slept out under the stars, happy to be out on the road again. Her thoughts drifted back to her first time outside of Candlekeep on a real adventure. It was the night Gorion was murdered; she had followed Merrick out of the Keep, keeping to the shadows. She had watched as Merrick and Gorion were attacked, clinging to a tree in part to keep safe, and in part to stop herself from running into the fray to save the two men. But what good would've an apprentice mage done against someone who could take down Gorion, so she stayed in the tree and watched. The next day she had caught up with Merrick and pleaded with him to let her stay with him. She knew he wanted her to come along, but was just afraid she may get hurt… but she had gone and not long after that they came to The Friendly Arm… remembering this once more Imoen made up her mind that the Inn was where she would head to see if anyone had heard anything of Merrick. "I've got friends there who may help," she thought and the last thing that went through her head before she fell asleep to the sound of crickets and owls, was that it was kind of ironic that she was headed to The Friendly Arm, as it was where she was planning on heading anyway, only with Jos…

The two figures moved soundlessly through the early dawn; not even the animals that called the wooded lot their home noticed as the women slipped back onto the road. "Kneve, is that-"

"A campfire" Kneve finished, looking over at her friend and motioning for her to take the other side, encircling the potential campsite. The other woman, Rora, nodded and took off through the trees on the opposite side of the road, making swift work of the distance, while Kneve, who was slightly slower, scanned the horizon for any unwanted company. Approaching the camp Rora saw that the encampment held only one occupant, a single fire, burning low, and a pack. Staying in the trees she hooted once, like a barn owl, to signal to Kneve that all was safe and she watched the opposite tree-line, her elf eyes picking out her friend emerging. Following suit the tall thief approached the sleeping woman. "You take the bag, I'll go for the pockets." Kneve spoke, her brown eyes lit in the firelight she bent low to begin work on the unlucky camper. Rora nodded, a sly grin on her features as she lifted the pack. Suddenly there was a blast of air and a airsplitting noise and Rora found herself ten feet from where she had begun, frozen with pack in hand. Barely in her line of sight she saw Kneve, also thrown back onto the ground, stuck in an awkward position with her arms outstretched. "Spell Sequencer" The elf thought, bitterly, "just our luck to target a ready mage." Kneve looked over at Rora, eyes wide in surprise, before fixing her gaze back on the sleeping mage; who was no longer on the ground.

Imoen's trained thieving skills had heightened her senses and she instantly felt the hands of Kneve upon her, setting off a chain of ready spells before opening her eyes and leaping to her feet, dagger in hand. "Who is it?" She called into the night, adrenaline waking her up faster than the cold night air, "show yourselves."

"We would," thought Kneve, cynically, "If you'd unhold us…" Getting no response Imoen flicked her hand and an area of the forest lit up, as if a gigantic fire had leaped forth, and the mage saw who her attackers were: two women, a human and an elf by the looks of it. The first was dressed in green and hooded, her dark hair visible only due to her uncomfortable pose, and her brown eyes looked directly at her, the gaze was confident and unforgiving -Imoen could see several daggers gleaming at her side. The second thief was tall and dressed in tight fitting black clothes, showing off her figure, and unlike her friend her hair was left loose, cascading down past her shoulders in wavy scarlet tresses. Imoen could see her light green eyes shining in the dark, full of malice, but also a certain bit of respect. The adventurer ran several scenarios through her mind, trying to find a way to converse with these two, without putting herself in danger. She was intrigued by them and, as much as she hated to admit it, was desperate for some actual companionship, even if it turned out to be hostile. Finally she settled on dispelling the magic, followed by a quick entangle spell and she stepped back, out of the radius. Soon the two women were free of their silent bonds, but constrained at the legs and waist by crawling plant life. "Who are you?" Imoen asked, stepping closer to the girls, holding her short sword in her hand, "don't worry, I'm not going to kill you…" She added, getting no response.

Rora looked to Kneve and the human gave her friend a 'don't even think about speaking' look, to which she smirked and turned back to the strange mage. The redhead was also intrigued by this woman so she would be the one to break the silence. "I'm Rora… that's Kneve…" She said in a coolly nonchalant way, to which Kneve groaned and shot Rora a look full of anger. "We're thieves…"

"Obviously." Imoen replied, nodding at the girls chatter, "as am I." She added as an after thought, pointing to herself with the tip of her sword. "From where?"

"I'd rather not have that disclosed…" Kneve broke in, shattering her silent vow, "but please, could you dispel this enchantment, you're obviously not hostile, and we promise not to be considering you've let us live…" Imoen laughed a little, sizing the two up. This one, Kneve, seemed to be more sensible and business like, while the elf seemed easier going, maybe a little darker and riskier… "I learned a long time ago to never trust a thief…" She replied, smiling, "but, why not…" She waved her wrist and the trap disappeared, leaving the two women to stand and stretch. "Thanks." Rora replied, running a hand through her thick hair while Kneve slowly made her way closer to the fire and Imoen's makeshift camp. The mage noted the pained look on the young girl's face when she spied the loaf of bread and slab of cheese poking out from Imoen's pack, "hey help yourself." She said, motioning for the two of them to sit. "So, Rora, Kneve… I'm Imoen Gorion… nice to meet you, although I do wish the circumstances to be better…" The older woman gave a small smile, to indicate she meant no harm in this comment, "Although, don't get me wrong, I am glad for _any_ company…" Imoen looked up and saw Rora was staring at her in disbelief, a hunk of bread hanging out of her mouth. "Imoen Gorion? The same Imoen Gorion who helped save Baldur's Gate? The famous thief turned mage we've heard so much about? The Imoen who is a Bhaalspa-" Rora choked on her food and stopped midword as Kneve elbowed her hard in the ribs, and a dawning realization that the words she chose might not have been wise crossed the elf's face. "Uh…" She tried to regain her sentence, but Imoen cut her off, "yeah, that's me…" She said with a heavy sigh, a little taken back that she had been noted as 'famous'. "Excuse her." Kneve said with the first smile Imoen had seen from the girl, "shes… well… odd." The thief said, with a snort and a fond look at Rora, who rolled her eyes and went back to her meal. Imoen saw that the girl's strict manner of dealing with things was ebbing away, and her true personality was shining through. Imoen was strongly reminded by the two companions of Merrick and herself and she felt a pang of urgency when she thought of wasting time while she didn't know where he was. But, as Imoen knew she wouldn't get far with so little sleep she resisted the urge to pack up and continue to the Friendly Arm.

"We're really sorry about the whole trying to take your stuff, but ya know, that's what we do…" Rora said after the three sat in silence for awhile, "being thieves and all…" The elf had finished eating now and was gazing at Imoen as if she was a God. Imoen met the girl's gaze, a little unnerved by the attention, and said, "well I know how it goes, having done it many a time before." She smiled as memories of the past adventures flickered through her head. She looked to Kneve and saw that she was also eating rapidly, shoving the bread and cheese into her mouth as if she hadn't eaten in days –which, in fact, she hadn't. "Take it easy, friend," Imoen eased, holding up her hands, "it looks like you two have been out here for awhile, where are you heading?" Kneve continued to chew, silently, but looked over at Rora, who met her gaze instinctively. There seemed to be an unheard conversation going on between the two of them, which Imoen assumed was about whether or not to tell her what they were up to. Looking awkwardly from one to the other she saw her fellow human swallow and nod at Rora without a sound. She turned to Imoen and opened her mouth, "we're on our way to a forest further north, to find a necromancer…" She said, slowly, being careful not to give much away. Imoen understood this act of caution; she had learned through the many mistakes to be careful with her words, even to new friends. "A job we have to do…" Kneve finished and Imoen nodded, guessing that the necromancer would soon be missing something dear to him and she smiled. "What about you? Why are you out on the road, all alone?" Rora suddenly asked, unable to contain her curiosity. The flame-hared elf leaned forward in interest, thinking if this woman was anything compared to her reputation this story would be a good one. Imoen faltered, biting her lip and wondering if she should tell the two girls the true story, or just tell them where she was headed. "Well I'm heading to The Friendly Arm Inn…" She started, hesitantly, "I'm trying to find an…" She let the word fall quiet, looking for the right one to follow it, "old friend. First at The Inn, then, who knows where…" She settled on, her gaze returning to the fire's flickering flames, which seemed to swallow her whole as she thought of Merrick. "Ah, an old friend, right." Rora replied, with a snicker; she was noticeably warming up to Imoen. "Who is he?" She persisted, resting her chin on her cupped hands, "and is he cute?" Imoen heard Kneve snort almost indignantly, as if she almost couldn't believe Rora actually said what she had. _Almost_. It was her turn to speak, "don't even get her started on men…" She cautioned, standing and stretching her limbs, "She'll never stop." Rora shot her friend an offended look but just turned back to Imoen and waited for a response. Imoen sighed, trying to figure out if she wanted to go into details and, more importantly, how she would. "He's my best friend…" She started, to which the elf gave a sympathetic grunt, "and… well, he's a fool." She spat, exasperated at Merrick. "I just can't even begin to explain him."

"Try." Came Rora's reply and Imoen looked over to see her grinning, "Believe me, you came to the right woman to discuss the male gender with." She added, patiently waiting for Imoen's reply. The mage then proceeded to spout off ten years of negative thinking, sexual frustration and unwanted feelings towards Merrick. She ranted, barely taking time to breath between accusations and anecdotes, eventually ending up on her feet, pacing around the fire. "…so he goes off with Jaheria, not even giving a thought about my well being or feelings as his friend… or otherwise." She continued, after almost twenty minutes of relaying stories of shared looks and conversations, emotional outbursts and harrowing experiences; and, of course, the kiss. "He had me right under his nose for so long and he never even gave me a second glance, not that I wanted that! Until I just dismissed _any_ feelings I ever had as just natural little blips and nothing more… and now I'm getting married and he has the nerve to tell me I don't love my fiancé and then just take off… oh Gods I hate that man…" Imoen took a deep, angry breath and flopped down on a log next to the fire, looking up at Rora and flushing when she realized how much she had spewed at the girl. Rora just laughed when she grasped that Imoen was done. "You don't hate him, you love him." She said simply, "but you won't let yourself admit it."

"No I don't." Imoen protested, angrily brushing her hair out of her face with her finger, "I love Jos." Kneve, who had been alternating between listening silently and staring off into the fire piped up, saying softly, "if you love him, the bard that is, why are you out here, after Merrick-"

"Because he's going to die if I don't, and I need him in my life." Imoen admitted, "He's my best friend after all."

"Alone." Kneve finished, ignoring Imoen's comment. "Where's Jos?" She asked, rhetorically. Imoen had nothing to say to this and just stared up at the night sky for a time. She was surprised this 'girl talk' had come so easily, and how nice it was, especially when the other women were fellow thieves. She missed that part of her life, more than ever now that magic had become her focus; she couldn't very well start plundering her neighbors in Candlekeep. Finally Kneve broke the silence, "Imoen, we're ahead of schedule-"

"Surprisingly" quipped Rora,

"So why not have us accompany you to the Inn? You can see if he's there, or if anyone knows where he is." The young thief finished,

"And _we_ can get ourselves some extra pocket money, if you get my drift." Rora added, grinning at Imoen and getting a tiny smile from Kneve.


	7. Chapter Seven

So that's how the three women ended up at the Inn three days later, road weary and hungry but noticeably better acquainted, friends even. The Inn, which was run by the infamous ex-explorers Bentley and Gellana Mirrorshade, was a haven for fatigued travelers and injured adventurers and the inn keepers always had a pot of stew, a warm bed and a mug to drown sorrows in ready on hand. A pleasant air lingered around the large stone fortress and within the walls of the Keep there were unspoken rules of kindness and peace, which was, perhaps, where the inn earned its name. If there was anywhere Imoen would find voluntarily given information and friendly faces if would be there. A friendly face was certainly welcome as the three thieves staggered into the softly lit bar room which greeted patrons. Shaking off the rain from their cloaks and hoods they found a table and sat down, shivering. Soon a bubbly woman came over to them, "my dears, what a state you three are in." She said, her voice jumping pitch with concern, "I'll get you some stew and bread right away, and mead for all." Rora's stomach growled on cue and the barmaid wandered away, shaking her head and tutting, disapprovingly. Imoen sighed and looked around, taking in the sights she hadn't seen for eight years. The Inn was just as she remembered it, down to the very same smells, and Imoen gazed over at the smallest bar; little Bentley Mirrorshade still stood behind it, tending it as ever. He was the first person Imoen wanted to talk to, but right now all she could think about was food and rest. Even if Merrick was or had been here recently she knew she was too tired to pursue him any further, or even confront him, tonight. The barmaid, Nessie, returned with three piping hot bowls of thick stew and tall mugs of mead and the three women devoured their meal in silence, rented rooms and wearily crawled up the stairs, barely able to lift their feet. After saying goodnight to the other two Imoen closed her door and looked around; it was a simple, affordable room, with a set of drawers, a night table, a chest and, most importantly, a bed. A bed so comfortable looking that Imoen's eyes closed as soon as she hit the pillow, drifting off to sleep right after.

She wasted no time in finding Bentley the next day. The gnome was once again behind the bar and Imoen had to wait in line behind a large, and rather smelly, half-orc, and a dwarf while being ogled by a seedy looking fellow at the bar, before coming to his attention. "May I help you- my stars… Imoen? Is that you?" He asked, his voice unbelieving, "I remember you in here years ago, before you were all famous…" He reminisced, giving the woman an uncharacteristic hug, "what brings you back to my little inn?" He chuckled, as Imoen smiled and said, "Actually, Bentley, I was looking for someone; I was wondering if he passed through." She gave a slightly annoyed look to the man at the bar who gave her a nasty, black-toothed grin from behind his mug. Imoen shuddered inwardly and continued talking to Bentley, "Merrick Gorion, remember?"

"Remember him? Of course I do, how could I forget Merrick?" The gnome squinted his eyes and stared at the ceiling absentmindedly, "nah, Merrick ain't been here for a good six months or more…." He replied shrugging and giving Imoen and little smile, "sorry." He turned back to his bar and began whistling and Imoen turned away, her face reflecting her downcast heart. She had been so sure that Merrick would be here… now she had hit a dead end. As she wandered away from the bar, not exactly sure where she was going she didn't notice the grimy man at the bar wipe the spittle and beer from his chin, slide off his stool and follow her out the door. As she was on her way down the stairs when a rough hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. "Where ya goin', lovey?" Imoen stared into the face of the slime ball who had been watching her from behind the bar. "Stay awhile." He leered, showing a full mouth of rotten teeth. The woman could smell the stables on him and she almost retched as she looked down at the hand that held her. "Let me go." She said evenly. Jerking away Imoen found herself slammed back up against the cold stonewall. "Relax honey, I got some information for you." The man whispered, leaning into Imoen's neck and flicking away a stray lock of hair with his finger. Imoen could feel his breath against her skin and pulled away, her neck taunt against the strain, but her petite figure could not shake off his hands which held her arms to her sides. "You see I've seen your little missing boy, and I can tell you where he is now… for a price." He held up a finger to her face before saying, "but don't go trying any of that magic you got stored up those fingers, the guards don't take to kindly to attacks on Inn grounds." Knowing he had her trapped within the neutrality of the Inn he pressed himself up against her and Imoen began to shake. "Not again." She thought, uncharacteristically terrified. "I swore never again. No more." She thought, memories of Irenicus fueling the fear. Pulling away as much as she could she looked around desperately for someone – anyone- to help her, but the grounds were unmercifully empty. "What do you want?" She managed to stutter, "anything…"

"10,000 gold." He replied, inches from her face. "I don't have that kind of money." She spat back, trying to hide her terror. The man laughed, picking his teeth with one finger; unwillingly letting one of Imoen's arms go; she reached for her dagger and realized to her horror that she had left it in her room. "Well you could always give me something else, sweetheart, I'm a very lonely man…" He hissed, rubbing his hand up Imoen's thigh. To this Imoen slapped him hard on the face, making him reel backwards. Grabbing her free hand roughly he met her gaze, malice now behind his eyes. "Not going to come willingly? Well then we'll just see what ol' Khaar can do about that." Imoen pressed her eyes closed, her stomach flipping over as she felt his rancid lips press against hers, which were drawn closed into a tight line. Shaking her head and back and forth she bashed her own forehead against his, making stars dance in the darkness; but she heard him give a yelp of pain, to which she smiled inwardly – until she heard the sharp zing of steel being drawn and felt the cold, hard knife against her abdomen. Imoen peered out at him, her eyes wide in fright. "One more move and I'll slide this thing so far into your belly you'll taste it, girl." He snarled, grabbing her throat with his free hand, choking her hard. "Understand?" She shut her eyes tight again, waiting for the prick of knife through flesh she knew was coming. But it didn't come. Instead she heard a vaguely familiar voice, which was both powerful and soothing say, "You make one more move and you die." She flung her eyes open and saw a tall elf with his bow drawn, arrow pressed against Khaar's head. The smelly barfly let his dagger clatter to the stone and let Imoen's neck go, raising his arms to the sky. The elf gave a high whistle and three guards came running from around the side of the building, surprised to see the scene that was played before them. Taking Khaar roughly into their custody Imoen was finally free to take a shuddering breath and let out a dry sob, sinking into the wall while awaiting her attacker's departure. Meanwhile the elf had quivered his arrow and was walking back towards Imoen and she finally saw his face. "Kivan?" She gasped, wide eyed and she tried to stand, but her trembling legs wouldn't let her. "Hail. It is not often I meet such a welcome face, Imoen. Though better circumstances would be called for if I had my way…" He bent down and held out a hand, which Imoen grabbed eagerly, pulling her to her feet. "Kivan, what are you doing here?" Imoen replied, her face showing her shock. Kivan laughed quietly and held up a hand, "you've been through too much to be asking me questions, come let us go inside, where it is safe, you need some rest." He led her into the Inn and marched her upstairs, "rest, my good Imoen, I'll still be here when you awake." He said before shutting her door and Imoen nodded, still a little dazed from her attack and the fact that her old companion was here, of all places.


	8. Chapter Eight

When she awoke night had fallen over the Inn and she could hear the racket coming from the tavern downstairs. She quickly and quietly made her way through the dimly lit hallway and traversed the stairs downward to the bar, nervously looking around the corner for Kivan. The two had met almost immediately after Gorion died and quickly formed a bond. They had both lost people at the hands of The Iron Throne and its allies; for Imoen it had been her foster father, for the elf: his life mate Deheriana, and they shared their grief, becoming friends, and even lovers. Confused and unsure about her relationship and feelings for Merrick, and unwilling to step forward and tell her best friend how she felt Kivan had filled in where Merrick could not; and although he never said it, Imoen was sure she was also filling in for Kivan's lost wife. They had never really loved one another, but they had comforted each other, in soul and in body. As these memories raced through her head Imoen reached the bottom on the stairs and scanned the room for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. Nessie bustled up to the young mage, apparently seeing the troubled look on her face. "Looking for your two friends, dear? They left this morning, thought I'd let you know." Imoen gave a start as she realized she in fact hadn't even thought to find Rora and Kneve all day; with the attack and Kivan and the shock of not finding any trace of Merrick they had completely slipped her mind. "Uh, thanks, but I'm looking for a ranger named Kivan. He's an elf, tall-"

"Dark and handsome?" Nessie finished with a sly smile, "yep, I seen him. He went up to his room about twenty minutes ago. Third floor, second door on the left." Imoen nodded her thanks and scratched her head, wondering if she should go and see the elf, or just wait until morning. Deciding that seeing as was now wide awake from her nap and restless as it was there was no way she was going to be content to sit at the bar all night, knowing she could be conversing with an old friend, so she hiked back on up the stairs. Finding the door to his room with ease Imoen then stood outside it for ten minutes, lifting her hand to knock and then letting it fall to her side a good twenty times, muttering to herself about being silly and tense. Finally she rapped against the wood, loudly, and waited. A moment later Kivan opened the door and smiled. He was holding a long dagger in one hand and a cloth in the other. "Imoen, come in. I apologize for not greeting you down in the tavern, but I did not know how long you would sleep, so I came back up here for a time." He gestured for the woman to sit down and she entered the room and sat down on the tiny bed, across from a chair he was obviously using. "Kivan, why are you here?" She asked, right out, smiling as the elf sat down, "don't get me wrong, it's amazing to see you again, but I never thought…" She trailed off, grinning again. Seeing him was different than seeing Merrick again; just as delightful, but less of an impact. "I'm actually on my way back to Shilmista."

"You mean you've been wandering around the Sword Coast all this time?" Imoen implored, a look of incredulity on her features. "Sword Coast, Amn, even Neverwinter." He replied, smiling. Imoen noted that the dreary and mournfully quiet air that surrounded Kivan when they had met was now gone; although still a man of few words and by no means animated in character, he was happier – he smiled more. "I guess time does heal…" Imoen thought, smiling to match his. "Wow…" She replied. Kivan went on to retell story after story of what had happened to him during the years they were apart and Imoen was torn between laughter at some moments and intent listening at others. "Well, I ramble on and it is unneeded for I am the one who should be praising you, my good woman. I have heard of the continued deeds you and Merrick and your allies have done. Bhaalspawn and facing Irenicus-"

"Irenicus was a fool." Imoen replied, sharply, silently cursing his name, her face growing dark. Kivan noticed this changed and leaned over from his chair, lifting her chin with one finger. Imoen was strongly reminded of her and Merrick's encounter on the edge of her bed, days before, and for a moment could not look Kivan in the eyes. "He has left his marks upon you." The elf said, simply. "I can see it in your eyes, aside from the scars…" He traced his finger along her forehead and down the long scar that ran from her eyebrow to the bottom of her eye. She closed her eyes and let the feeling of her hands on her face go right to her core, letting her self go numb for a moment. She felt his hand on her shoulder, the other was cradling her face as he brought it close to his. Imoen could feel his hands upon her when she let out an unintentional whisper. "Merrick…" Kivan drew back and Imoen opened her eyes to see him doing the same. She expected to see anger on the elf's face but instead she saw a sad light in his eyes she recognized from days gone by. "Oh, geeze, Kivan, I'm sorry… its just. Woah, you're good…"

"I should not be doing this." He said simply and he smiled, softly. "I am truly sorry… times gone by should be left to the past." Imoen nodded. She knew what he meant and agreed. They had not loved each other then, and they would not love each other now, not even in the physical sense. "Merrick?" Kivan asked, his thoughts seeming to clear. "I see you have finally realized what we all knew all along…" He said, lifting an eyebrow in an inquisitive manner. Imoen was a little taken back, and then ashamed as she recognized that she once again had thought of Merrick, not Jos. "Maybe…" She replied, simply, not sure why she did not go into details with Kivan. The pair sat in silence for a time, Kivan once again picking up the cloth and knife and polishing, and Imoen staring out the open window into the night sky. It was Kivan who broke the silence, "Imoen, I know of where you can find Merrick." He said, as if it was a great burden he needed to let off his chest, "although I do not know the exact location he was seen in Baldur's Gate not long ago. Perhaps, that is where he is heading?" Imoen didn't bother to ask how Kivan knew she was looking for their old companion, but instead looked over at him, her face alight with surprise and delight. "Where in Baldur's Gate? Why is he there?" She asked quickly and Kivan held up a hand, "That I do not know, but a group of adventurers, not unlike ourselves so long ago, is leaving on a caravan tomorrow, and heading for The City. It should be an easy journey, three carts, occupants, and a full moon to light the night travel. I could get you aboard, if you wish."

"Yes, please, Kivan." Imoen replied, nodding as the spark of hope she had harbored returned once more.


	9. Chapter Nine

Jos knocked once on the door of his fiancées home then let himself in. Under normal circumstances the knock would have been playful, a tease from him to her. Imoen had always told him it was his playful nature and sense of fun that had won her heart, but now, this day, the bard was anything but good-humored. He had debated waking her in the morning, before leaving for Winthrop's, but her sleeping figure had actually brought back the anger of the night before, and his desire to talk, or even see her, was dampened. "Merrick. Merrick…" He had grumbled while finding his tunic and hat in the darkness of the home. All he could think about or feel was his anger towards Merrick. Sure, Imoen had always relayed stories of her best friend, her "Big Brother" to him, and he had looked forward to meeting such an important part of his love's life. Yet, now that it had happened, Jos realized he was a fool to not have questioned such a close relationship to start with.

The fight that had begun outside the hut the day before had not dissipated when Merrick had left the scene, in fact it had gotten worse. "You're overreacting." Imoen said softly, when Jos had followed her inside, closing the door. "He's my friend, Jos, nothing more. We hadn't seen each other in a long time. Longer than we both could handle. It was nothing. Nothing, I swear." She pleaded. "Nothing?!" He had replied, incredulously, "nothing? Imoen, it was a kiss. A damn fervent one at that." He sank into chair, "I can't believe you…"

"Jos…" Imoen breathed, "I love you. I do. More than you know."

"Then why, Imoen." Jos asked, softly. The fire gone out of him. "Do you have any idea of what I felt when I came through that door? Any idea? Loss. Not anger, not hate, not even shock. I just felt like I'd lost you…" He looked up at her, "all the rest came later. You have to understand, Immy, I love you. Enough to make you my wife. I _love_ you."

"And I love you. I'm sorry… but, believe me. You, Jos. I love you." She made her way across the room to him, cupping his face in her hands and placing a gentle kiss on his lips. "Would I wear this if I didn't?" She asked, fingering her ring. She stood, silently, looking at him, for a full minute before grabbing her cloak and heading towards the door. "I'll be back, later." Imoen said, opening the door and letting the light fill the house. " Take it easy, I'm just going for a walk." She added, exhausted, at the look on Jos's face. When her form had disappeared from view Jos got up from the chair and paced the room, looking around, for what, he wasn't sure. He loved Imoen, and believed she loved him, but in his heart he knew there was more to that kiss than she was saying, and the pit of his stomach dropped.

Imoen had returned late that night. Where she had gone Jos speculated to be the woods – that is, if she had indeed been telling the truth in not going to see Merrick. Somehow he knew she hadn't, and the woods were her only other solace than the hut. Jos figured it was because so many of her important years had been spent out in the Wilds, an adventurer, like himself to a degree, but she didn't talk of that much anymore. He managed to get a few stories of epic journeys and stolen goods, always a laugh with Imoen, when she had downed a few too many ales, but something was hidden deep in her that even he did not know. Jos saw the light-hearted and chirpy girl she must have been in her voice and mannerisms, but he felt she had changed out there. That sometime before she had been more innocent, more mischievous. Now she was a woman, a lively and cheery one, but something… He had been dwelling on this when he had drifted off to sleep, curled up on his side of the bed, the emptiness of the other side painfully apparent. Jos awoke later that night to the creaking of the door. Sitting up in bed he saw Imoen, her back to him, taking off a dripping traveling cloak. As she stripped down to her underclothes and climbed into bed neither of them spoke.

And now, almost twenty-four hours later, the house was empty, and to Jos it seemed that something was amiss. It became apparent what when he found Imoen's note.

"Winthrop! Winthrop?! You big lump of clay, where are you?" Jos shouted, shoving open the door to the Inn with enough force to make it hit the opposite wall. "Winthrop!" Calling the old man's name he ran room to room, poking his head in as he frantically searched. Traversing the stairs Jos saw someone huddled in the corner of the wine cellar. "There you are." He made his way to the sleeping mass. "Wake up." He said, keeping the worry in his voice to a minimum. "Wake up!" The bard repeated, giving the barkeep a hard slap. "Wha-humph-huh!" Winthrop sputtered, starting awake, "Who in the Nine-Hells! Jos. What is it, boy? Who's got your tunic in a knot, not letting a hardworking man get a decent rest." He climbed to his feet, puffing and grumbling. "What?"

"Winthrop, where's Imoen?" Jos asked, his usually eloquent manner gone. "She's left – she's gone. Do you have any idea where she is?" He said again, holding up the crumpled note. "Oh no. Oh dear…" Winthrop said, rubbing his hand over his balding head, "I was wondering when this would come…" He muttered to himself. "Come with me, laddie, lets have a drink, and a talk." The large man led the still bewildered Jos up the rickety stairs, to the bar. Once drinks were poured and candles lit, they found a corner table and settled in. After the letter had been shown to the barkeep Jos was the first to talk. "Where is she, Winthrop? Where did she go? I need to find her, now. She left, she's gone-"

"Woah, woah, don't get ahead of yourself, son."

"She's my fiancée, Winthrop, and she left… where am I supposed to be, if not ahead of myself?" Jos cried, downing his drink in frustration.

"Jos, listen… she's, well, yes, she's gone. But, well, honestly, boy, I saw this coming. She's a woman of the road. We've all been surprised round here, her stickin' round for so long… you have to understand, there are parts of that girl, not even you is gonna understand. Maybe even know 'bout at all."

"Please, Withrop. She's my sunflower. She's my everything, and I hers. She's my sunrise and-"

"For once shut your mouth and listen to me." Winthrop interrupted, slamming his fist onto the table. "She's an adventurer, not a flower! Has been since, well, before she could say the word. I remember times we'd have to fight to get her down off the Keep walls, trying to escape she was… she loves it out there, and with Merrick gone-"

"So, she has gone after him." Jos replied, the hostility returning to his voice "how could she do that to me, to us? We're getting married, and she leaves me?! For – for – a sword-wielding, unwashed barbarian?!"

"You watch it, boy!" Winthrop bawled, "I'm found of you, don't get me wrong, but that barbarian is like a part of my family, and besides, you're lucky you got that firebrand girl of yours to take ring. Never thought it was going to happen, m'self." Winthrop stopped long enough to see the look of indignation of the young man's face. "And you read the letter yourself, you know that's exactly where she's gone!" Winthrop said, a touch of exasperation in his voice, "but don't get worked up. Think about it, Jos. Merrick is her best friend; the only other boy I've ever seen her hang onto, other than you. They learned to walk, talk, cause trouble and _wield a sword_ together. If he's in trouble, she's going after him."

"How did you know…" Jos asked suddenly. "Please don't tell me everyone else knew about it, and not I."

"No, no. Calm down. I just figured, with Merrick leaving and all, she'd be next to follow."

"Winthrop, how do I know she's coming back? What if she's gone after him? For good?" Jos looked at the candle, avoiding the older man's gaze, for fear he'd see the fright in his eyes. "What if she doesn't want to be here with me?"

"Jos," Winthrop said, putting a hand over the bard's on the table. "I don't know if Imoen has ever told you anything about herself. Her life before this calm time, here in Candlekeep."

"Of course!" Jos retorted, a bit too quickly for comfort.

"Don't interrupt!" Winthrop said, promptly. "Where was I? Well, anyway, no matter how open or shut she is, I guarantee there are things she hasn't shared – things that only Merrick knows about. Heck, some things he probably doesn't. She came back changed. Sure, you know the young at heart and foolish Imoen we all love, but since she came back, since all this Bhaal business, she's been different. Something innocent inside her was lost. Small as it may have been. You don't know the true adventurer sleeping inside that woman; none of us do, but Merrick. Don't you see, you may never get to share that with her, bard as you may be." Pouring another drink he added, "Jos, don't take this the wrong way, but I know you like to create the music about someone else's ventures, not your own, while she needs to see to her own exploration. Maybe this is just one last venture?" He paused, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "But, I won't lie. I have had thoughts, ideas about Imoen and Merrick, I mean, who wouldn't, them being so close and all, but I know her, like a daughter, and if she says in that note that she's going to be back, she will be. And she's got _your_ ring on your finger; that's worth something, isn't it?" Winthrop stopped, letting Jos absorb what he had said. Polishing off his drink he let out a puff of breath and got to his feet, nosily. "Hey, take the rest of the day off, heh?" Jos looked up, apparently breaking his steady train of thought. "Thanks Winthrop…" He replied, and the old man smiled, nodding his understanding. "No problem." As he made his way back to the kitchen he called over his shoulder, "Jos?"

"Yeah?"

"That woman loves you, I know it. You should too."


	10. Chapter Ten

Strangely, around the same moment her lover and mentor were discussing her need to be on the road Imoen was exactly in the opposite situation. Curled up in her warm bed in the Friendly Arm she lay under the covers, dreaming. Not as pleasant were the nightmares that plagued her subconscious. Irenicus. Blades of cold steel, hot pain and screams coming from her own parched lips. There she was again, in Spellhold, trapped under lock-and-key by the Cowled Wizards and ensnared by the madness of Irenicus. A soft moan left Imoen's lips as she tossed in the bed, brows knit tightly together. Knives slicing into her then unmarred skin, his hands on her, violating her body and his taunts digging dipper into her subconscious. Oh, how she had tried to block him out, to turn a blind eye and endure the pain. In the weeks she waited, longing for Merrick, Jaheria, Minsc to rescue her, she had gotten good at drowning out the physical pain. Daggers and fire became daily life; starvation and darkness were easy to get used to – she had even become accustomed to the agony of being left alone with nothing but the cold voices of her tormented mind and polluted spirit. It had seemed like she might have been able to make it out, waiting for the others. But Irenicus, she learned, was not a force to be trifled with. His voice rang through the sleeping woman's head: "Interesting… like the other, it seems you're not easy to crack, girl. No worry, we have other ways…" Abruptly coming out of dreaming Imoen sat up in bed, frantically looking around the dark room. Breathing heavily and absently wiping tears from her face she sunk back down, the rest of the scene playing in her head. Suddenly it was all so real, she was back in his domain.

How had she known what she was – what was inside her all along. Merrick had always been the one everyone was after, not innocent Imoen, always in the background, ready to help, but not readily sought out. "Leave me alone! Get away from me, you filth. I don't know what you're trying to get from me, but if its ransom or…" She had cried, after weeks of torment at the hands of the banished elf. "…You're not going to get Merrick to give you what you want, if I'm dead…"

"Merrick? Is that what you think I want?" Irenicus had laughed, locking the door to her cell as he entered, "foolish girl. Do you not know anything? Nothing about yourself; about what you harbor deep within yourself?" As he made his way slowly across the cement floor Imoen had backed herself into the corner, scrambling on hands and knees, away from his grasp. "What do you want with me? I'm only a fledgling mage – you don't need my power!"

"Power? I am more powerful than you know, girl, why would I want your cheap cantrips?! Ha. You are more idiotic than I had thought, even being so resilient as you have proved to be." He grabbed her roughly and pulled her to her feet, "no, girl, I know how to get what I want… the answer, as contemptible as it may be, has finally come to me."

Imoen struggled against his grip, thrashing about enough to cause bruising on her arms, though, in comparison to the scars he had left on her, this hardly mattered. "Leave me be!" She whimpered, "Merrick… oh, Gods, leave me be…"

"Merrick? Ah, yes. The boy. The other tainted soul. How unlucky it proved that he got away. Perhaps if the both of you were here this wouldn't be necessary, but with only you to work with, child, you're my last resort… Perhaps, if he hadn't left you to my hands-"

"He-he didn't leave me. He's coming. He's coming for me! I know it!"

"Hah, I forgot how devoted you are to that man." Irenicus spat at her as he secured her wrists to the chains hanging from the damp wall. "Oh yes, as much as you fight it, I know what goes on in your heart, girl. I know you're thoughts, you're fears. The deep feelings… the unrequited longing you feel-"

"You know nothing!" She screeched, her wrists bleeding from the biting steel.

"Nothing? Hah, I know you're _soul_ girl, what do you think I want from you?" The calm bitterness in his voice had scared Imoen more than anything he had thrown at her so far. The next thing she knew he was coming towards her.

"No." Closing her eyes the present Imoen tried to block out the rest of the memories; this was one moment she had been successful at deterring. She had buried it deep down – but try as she might, she had not forgotten. She now remembered his hands on her and his breath; his desecration of her body. Not knives this time, but much worse… something she could not ignore or get used to. No, Imoen would never forget… In truth it had broken something deep within her that she had never fully regained. But at that moment in the damp cell, all she could feel was rage. "Get away! Get off me… go. Go! Merrick!"

At that moment all she knew was unbridled and devastating fury, then the world was spinning followed by blackness. No memory, no pain, no shame. When she had awoken, once again huddled in the corner of the cell, her naked body was bloodied, her wrists torn, the chains that had held her in bondage broken. She raised her dark eyes, and the elven mage was standing above her, clutching a wound to his torso. Imoen had no recollection of how it had got there, but she hoped with unconcealed hate that she was responsible. "Interesting…" He whispered, unable to hide the pain in his voice, "very interesting… something I did not anticipate… but no matter. I got what I wanted in the end, didn't I?"

"You monster… you…" She couldn't finish. The fury was ebbing, giving way to shame, emptiness and sorrow.

"You are mistaken girl – you are the monster. Surprising as it is…"

"I am no monster!" She had shouted, "you… what you did to me… you…" Unwillingly she broke down, hiding her face in her blood-soaked hands.

"Do not tell me you don't know…" Irenicus had mocked, laughing, "you have no recollection?… Ah, well _I_ am the monster no longer, girl. Thanks to you… oh, yes, I got what I wanted in the end…"

Later, when the adrenaline had worn off, she discovered a vacant feeling in her, one she was unable to overcome. He had taken her soul. Whatever she had become in those moments had given him access to her; access she had so carefully guarded.

This was now long ago, and the Imoen that lay in the Friendly Arm had indeed retrieved her soul from the mage, and ridden herself of the taint he had wanted to begin with. Still, his defilement of her had left its marks, stolen a part of her she would never get back. Rape did that to the strong willed. Never had she discussed this with anyone. Not Jos, and not Merrick. Somehow she was ashamed, and unable to bring herself to share something so devastatingly wounding. It was something she held onto, deep down, locked away, but never far from her mind. Why it was so present now, and why the nightmares that had begun to ebb long ago were back, full force, Imoen didn't know, but, exhausted from the memories she fell back into a dark, and fretful sleep.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Waking to a bright and cheery room the next morning, a weary Imoen climbed out of bed and made her way down stairs to the tavern. Not seeing Kivan anywhere in the dining area she sat down to a quick breakfast before going out to explore the grounds, searching for her elven friend. Lightly traversing the front steps she saw his familiar green and brown hood mingled among a group of young travelers. "Kivan!" She called, a smile on her face for the first time that day, "Heya!" Crossing the distance between her and him with quick steps she surveyed the cramped caravan, noting two wagons, several horses and, to her surprise, one cow. "Ah, m'lady, you join us, I see." Kivan replied, smiling back at the mage. "This is the assemblage I spoke of. Does it suit your purposes?"

"Oh, yeah, for sure, Kivan." Imoen replied, "who's all coming? You are, aren't you?"

"Well, as much as it saddens me to part ways, I may have to leave the company before long. But for now, dear Imoen, I will travel with you." Imoen grinned ear-to-ear, glad to hear some good news, for the first time since her ordeal the night before. "Perfect!" She said with a nod, "when do we leave?"

So, much like she had done years before, Imoen Gorion set off from The Friendly Arm Inn before the sun at hit its high mark. Walking briskly along side one of the horses, the image of the tall Inn fading into the distance, she marveled at this. "You can take the girl out of the adventure, but I guess you can't take the adventure out of the girl." She sighed, chuckling softly. She was in surprisingly good standing, considering the hellish night she had been through, but for some reason the crisp air and the open road awoke a part of her she had long forgotten actually still existed. When she could no longer see The Friendly Arm in the background she scrambled up into one of the carts to meet the company she had fallen in with. To her astonishment two familiar faces welcomed her, one wearing a grin, the other a calm smile. "Hello there, friend." Kneve said, holding out a hand to help the woman into the farm cart. "Kneve! Rora!" Imoen cried, "I thought you'd left!"

"Nah, just disappeared into the night, looking for a little fun…" The auburn headed elf said with a wink.

"But Bentley told me-"

"Bentley's getting old." Rora finished, "besides, we thought you'd need a little company on the road to The Gate, so we found these lovely folk to accompany you." The sarcastic disdain in her voice was explained as Imoen looked around the cart and found a sight for sore eyes. Hardly an adventuring company the occupants of the cart were dirty, tired looking peasant folk, all staring blankly ahead or snoozing, their snores hitting Imoen's ears for the first time.

"Ew… You? You found them?" She asked, wondering where the 'adventuring party, much like they had been', according to Kivan, were hiding… "I thought this was supposed to be a troupe of voyagers, not refugees…"

"Well, you know us elves, we like to make the best of a bad situation." Rora replied, shrugging. "Plus, that handsome lad you found has a way of making even the ugliest words seem exquisite." She added, with a purr, not lost on Imoen. "I must go see if he needs my help with the horses." She winked and gracefully hopped out of the cart, leaving Imoen to talk to Kneve.

"How did you know I needed to get to Baldur's Gate?" Imoen asked, finding a seat on the floor of the cart, next to Kneve, who was chuckling at her reaction to the other persons in the vicinity.

"Well, when you went off to bed, Rora and I did a little looking into your missing boyfriend – sorry, I mean, Merrick…" Kneve corrected, seeing the flash in Imoen's eyes. "Rora must finally be rubbing off on me." She added, sighing, "anyway, we heard through the grapevine that he'd been seen in The Gate not long ago, maybe a bit longer than to be any help, but it was a start. Then, Rora met Kivan in the tavern, we got talking, and well, turns out we had a mutual friend – you."

"Ah, so that's how that damn mystical ninny found out about Merrick…" Imoen said, with a shake of her head, "he made it sound like he was all seeing or something… I'll have to give him a piece of my mind."

"Well, I wouldn't try just yet, he seems to be a bit busy." Kneve remarked, taking a peek outside, to where an overwhelmed looking Kivan was busy locked in Rora's embrace.

"Well, that also explains a few things about his sudden cheeriness…" Imoen added, sighing and laughing at the same time. "You know, he's usually much more sullen and mysterious."

"Well, no one escapes the charm of Rora, when she's got her mind set." Kneve added, laughing as the entangled pair fell over into the dust, still caught in each other's embrace. "She can be a bit, uh, forceful." Imoen saw a dazed Kivan sit up, a small smile playing on his lips, a new thing for him, as he struggled to get up from the dirt and catch up to the caravan.

"Hey, I figure it's a good thing for me. Believe me, a broody Kivan is a passionate one, but he's seems much nicer when happy." Imoen said, looking far off, before turning her gaze to Kneve's gaping face. "Uh-I mean… well, not that I would know anything about Kivan's passionate embrace – I mean, passion – I mean… well, lets just saw, me and your red hared harlot have a few _intimate_ things in common now…" She finished, blushing furiously. "It was a long time ago." She added, hastily, pulling her hood up over her head. "So, never mind."


	12. Chapter Twelve

Imoen learned that contrary to Kivan's words the party they had fallen into was nothing more than a convoy of workers being moved from the mines in Nashkell. "They're trying to re-open the mines east of Cloakwood." One of the miners had told the thief around the fire on the rare night when they actually stopped to set up camp. "Nice bunch…" Rora said, sardonically, on the third day on the road. They had been going north, but thankfully had just veered west, signaling that most of the occupants would be parting ways as soon as they reached the mines. As per usual the four companions spent the days walk between telling stories in the shade of a cart, and exploring the woods and road alongside and ahead of the slow moving convoy. Imoen was busy telling the story of how she became a thief to a young boy, whose parents were both miners. "I'm just worried that no matter what I want I'm going to be stuck at these new mines, for the rest of my life." He told her, head resting in his hands, with a downcast look. "Nah!" Imoen had replied, leaning over, "don't let them, or anyone else, tell you how or where to live your life. I mean, I could be stuck back in – " she stopped herself from saying Candlekeep when it occurred to her that she was, for all intensive purposes, about to be stuck in Candlekeep, settled in and comfortably married. "…well, its just that you can be whatever you want. Look at me! They tried to make me into a mage – not a neat adventuring one, like I am now, but a boring one, stuck translating books in a dusty library, but did I listen? No way!"

"Really?" the boy said, eyes alight with encouragement.

"Really. I became a thief instead… well, it was more like I always was one. I would pilfer anything shiny, and practice hiding in the shadows of this Inn I lived in, in fact I got real good at it. I remember one time I sprang out at my bestfriend, Merrick…" She stopped, again, the memory of him too fraught with emotion. "…and this other time," she went on, not missing a beat, "my friend, Winthrop, he's a lot older than me, even when I was your age he was old, well, he was cleaning the tavern, and all day he had this gold chain hanging out of his back pocket, staring me in the face, and I just couldn't help myself! I grabbed it without him even knowing it was missing… well, until the next day, when he found it in my room and I got a walloping. But, since then, I've never been anything else… you'll find your place… I found mine – on the road." Smiling at the boy's sudden exuberance Imoen patted him on the shoulder and climbed out of the cart, jumping to the ground. "Imoen!" Kivan called, rounding the bend with Kneve and Rora in tow, "the mines are not far ahead, we will probably make it to them by tonight, and then to the City the eve of the following day."

"Great!" Imoen called, raising a hand to greet her friends, "I'm just going to go for a little walk." Turning away from the group she entered the woods next to the road and walked into them for a good while, until all noise of the caravan and sight of the road was gone. Abruptly whirling around and walking parallel with the road she was free to let the sounds and smells of the road, and not the cramped living quarters aboard the cart, wash over her. Thankfully, the sun was shining, making long rays through the dense foliage above her head, and the light was enough that she was in no danger of losing her way. Stopping a moment to take in the birdsong and green smell that surrounded her she was vividly reminded of not only the day her and Merrick had set out on their first adventure, so many years ago, but of the infamous kiss, as well. A funny lurch crept up from her stomach as she remembered suddenly that that was no longer the only kiss they had shared. She had almost forgotten about that embrace in her hut. Jos, and her rocky engagement had become her priority, and then with meeting Kneve and Rora, the reappearance of Kivan, the attack and the nightmares, it was no wonder such a small thing had escaped her mind. "Hmm. Small…" She said aloud, to the squirrels, "then why'd it feel so damn _big_." Here in the middle of the woods, with no company except the wildlife and plants, she was free to not bury the feelings she had experienced when Merrick's lips had met hers. She no longer had to hide from herself the fact that her stomach had flipped in circles at the taste of him, and her flesh had tingled where his hands met it; that a burning flush had risen in her, and she had considered… "Oh, Imoen!" She cried, drawing her attention away from that moment, "you're engaged to a scrawny bard, of course you'd want to lay with a muscular man… sheesh, that doesn't mean you're in love with your best friend!" She reprimanded.

"So you do have feelings for him…" Came a voice from behind a tree, and Imoen let out a cry of surprise and turned around, heart in throat and dagger in hand. "You've been a mage too long, and a thief too little, my friend." Kneve joked, showing herself.

"Kneve! How long have you been there?!" Imoen asked, scandalized. "_And_ you scared the Abyss out of me…" She added, grumpily, sheathing her knife.

"Not long. Well, long enough to know you're still thinking about him." The younger woman said, approaching Imoen, a sad smile on her face. "You have to admit, Imoen, even to yourself, when you're thinking of kissing your best friend more than your lover…" Kneve trailed off, "well, maybe there's just something you should consider… anyway, the cart just turned off onto the mine road, and it'll be dark in a few hours, so, I thought I'd let you know that we're going to set up camp at the mine bunkers, about a mile north of the road…"

"Thanks, Kneve." Imoen said, smiling a little, and gazing off into the woods as the other thief left her to her solitude. What was she supposed to contemplate?! Leaving Jos? Never. At least, she didn't want to… but that kiss. That kiss hadn't just woken something feminine deep in her, but something else. The adventurer buried within. Merrick did that. Jos was comfortable, she loved him and his job at the Inn and his studies in the library, and how she could depend on him coming home to her at night and warming up his side of the bed, but Merrick, Merrick was who she was. Ever since she was a child what he was she was. How could she not love that part of him – of them. But if she loved Jos, and only loved the adventure Merrick brought to her life, then why could she not bare to lose him. True, he was her best friend, she mulled, but it wasn't just the thought of his death that tore at her, it was the thought of him not being by her side, like all those years. As hard as it was to admit, it was the thought of never getting to relive that kiss in those trees as teens, and never being taken by him under the open sky, as she had dreamed of on the road as a young woman, that was the worst, in a way; the most confusing, at least. Marrying Jos meant never again having those feelings for Merrick. "Not love." She sighed, defeated, "but, yes, attraction…" Leaning against a tree Imoen saw the road ahead. Somehow, letting herself finally admit that, yes, there was something there between them, that, yes, she had feelings for him, was heartbreaking. "How can something I knew all along hurt so much… be so confusing?!" Imoen asked the tree, tracing the bark with her fingers and letting a tear run down her face. There was relief in the admittance, no lightening of the load, but instead a deepening of emotion, and a bigger, badder confusion. The question that lay at the back of her mind, the part where even she couldn't truly form ideas, was – if it wasn't love, then why did it hurt so much…


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Imoen took her time making her way to the camp, and by the time she arrived it was not only dark, but many of the miners were settling in.Sitting by the fire, she felt a hand on her shoulder and she turned to see Kneve once again smiling at her. "Hey, again." She said, sliding into a spot next to Imoen and handing the mage a cup of tea. "Courtesy of Mrs. Driner, over there." She said, cocking her head back towards one of the lit cabins. Imoen nodded and took a tentative sip, "where are the carts?"

"Oh, well the lovely people we've gotten ourselves involved in decided we're not important enough to take the extra day of the trip for, so from here on, it's us on foot to Baldur's Gate. They're headed back to Nashkell, minus the new occupants of this lovely establishment…" She replied, sarcastically. "Oh, and sorry about today. I wasn't totally meaning to listen in on you, it just kinda happened." She grinned, sipping her own tea. The pair sat in silence, Imoen staring into the fire, watching the flames lick the logs and dance into the darkness, Kneve stealing glances at her, that didn't go unnoticed. Imoen broke the silence. "Kneve, do you love anyone?" The younger thief was startled out of a daze, but looked to see Imoen meeting her gaze. "Yeah, I do." She replied, a small smile playing on her lips, "very much…"

"Tell me about him." Imoen asked, looking off into the fire again. "Who is he? What's he like?"

Kneve let out a sigh, and looked at the ground for a long moment, evidently lost in thought. "His name is Torin… and I am completely in love with him." She finally said, with a laugh. "He's like, that part of my soul that was missing, that I never knew wasn't there until he was there… He's got these amazing green eyes - I mean, the most stunning green I have ever seen, and he's a big goof, always making me laugh. Always. That's all we do is laugh, and joke around. I think that's why I fell for him. He's the same as he always was, always has been just himself… but he can be incredibly sweet too." She looked up at Imoen, memories behind her dark eyes, "he'll just hold me, or sit with me. Sometimes he'll just leave a rose on my pillow, for no reason at all. Not even ask about it later…" Kneve shrugged, letting the laughter behind her eyes out. "Sounds amazing." Imoen said, with a smile, putting her cup on the ground. "What about Jos?" Kneve asked, looking pointedly at Imoen. "Oh, Jos? Well… I dunno." She shrugged, letting her eyes wander again, "I'm not nearly as good as describing him, as you were…" She trailed off, and Kneve cut in, saying, "well, we know all about Merrick from the other night, but nothing of your fiancé…"

"What about Rora?" Imoen said, deflecting Kneve, "I mean, I know she's off in the bushes somewhere with Kivan, but…"

"Surprisingly, Rora does." Kneve answered, letting her away with the change of subject. "Well… did. Uh, Rora and me kind of went through something a while back. Its complicated, but she killed me."

"What!?" Imoen cried, looking right at her friend, "you can't be serious."  
"Yeah, I am. I said it was complicated… anyway, since then, well her and Wells, they're been… on rough ground, I guess. He's a quiet guy, and he said he still loved her, but needed some time to adjust… so, when we're there, they're together, when were out here – well, not so much." She finished, as the pair heard a giggle from the nearby woods. Abruptly the giggling stopped and the air seemed to get heavy. Imoen was suddenly aware that her sense were pricked for action, and the hair on the back of her neck was standing on end. "Kneve –" she began.

"Yeah, I know…" The girl replied, slowly. There was a growl from the woods behind them, and then another from their right. A lone howl echoed from out of the forest.

"Werewolves!" Came Kivan's strong voice as he tore from the trees, Rora already ahead of him. "Get in doors, everyone!" As if on cue the forest erupted with sound and before either of them knew what was happening a large werewolf bounded into the light made by the fire and took up its position in front of Kneve and Imoen.

"Kneve!" Rora cried, stopping dead in front of a home as straggling miners rushed around her to get within the safety of walls.

"Rora, get inside." Kneve called, calmly, not taking her eyes off the wolf. "Go!" Before Rora could answer there was a wisp of air past her ear and an arrow flew through the air and struck the monster between the eyes. Looking back she saw Kivan with his bow drawn. "My hero." She gasped, bolting for the door, with Imoen and Kneve close behind. Kivan was the last inside the hut, which was already populated with at least a dozen miners, all who looked very nervous. Mother's tried to calm fussing children and boys tried to be brave and help their fathers construct makeshift weapons. The four companions wandered the home, listening for the slightest sound. Imoen and Kivan were no strangers to werewolves, and knew they were out there, planning and biding their time. Much to everyone but their surprise there was a thud on the roof, followed by the scraping of claws. In a heartbeat Kivan drew his bow and unquivered an arrow, sending it through the ceiling with enough force to bury itself to the feathers. There was a yelp and the sound of a werewolf hitting the ground. "What are we going to do?" Imoen asked him, taking him into a corner, as to not upset the miners. "I believe we should wait it out, until sunrise." The elf responded, peering through a clouded window to see what he could. "If we all stay in one home, we may make it."

"How are we going to get the other families?" She asked in a hushed voice, "going back out there would be suicide." As if on cue there was a pounding at the door, which made even the two of them jump. "Leave it!" Kivan cried, at the miners who had headed for the door. He made his way slowly to the door, bow drawn, waiting for more noise. "Help me! Let me in, quick!" Came the frantic voice of a woman Imoen recognized, "let her in, Kivan, I know that voice!" She said, watching the elf throw the door open and drag the poor woman inside. "How did you manage to get here?" Kivan asked, once more peering out the window. "I waited until they were in the trees and made a dash for it." She cried. "Please, listen to me, it was folly, and I only made it for chance, but I had to. My son is out there." The woman began to cry and it was then Imoen knew who she was. She was the mother of the young boy she had befriended on the cart earlier that day. "No!" She spoke up, walking forward to the sobbing woman. "Where is he? Is he alive?"

"I do not know – I mean to say, yes, he was when I last saw him. He was fleeing into the woods, carrying his father's sword. He said he needed to protect the new village."

Imoen hung her head, remembering the conversation she had with the boy that day, about doing what was in his heart and what he was meant to do. "Damnit." She hissed, running to the window and looking out. "Please, find him!" The woman cried, putting a frantic hand on the thief's shoulder, "please." Imoen nodded, resigned. Motioning for Kivan to follow her she made her way over to where Kneve and Rora sat, in the furthest most reaches from the door. Rora was pale, even for her, and said nothing, nor made any indication that she listening, the entire while Imoen explained to the pair what the woman had told her about the boy. "We have to go find him." She ended, and looked at them. Kneve nodded, gravely, but Rora spoke, her voice quivering. "No way am I going back out there. Not for anything." She whispered, her voice resolute, none-the-less. "Oh, come on, Rora, think of the boy." Imoen said, frustrated, "we're strong adventurers, he's just a kid."

"No." Rora said, burying her head in her cloak and refusing to look at them. Exasperated Imoen stormed away, "you deal with your new girlfriend, Kivan." She spat, stalking past him. Kneve followed, looking nervously from her best friend to Imoen. "Imoen. Imoen!" She called, making the mage stop and turn to face her, "you don't understand. Rora's afraid of werewolves," she said, "like, more than most people." She added, seeing the look Imoen was giving her. "Terrified, little kid night-terrors afraid – consumes her waking moments worrying about it afraid. She's afraid of the woods because of them…" Kneve explained, blushing for her friend's sake. "Afraid of the woods? An elf? You're kidding me." Imoen scoffed. "Well, just the woods at night…" Kneve said, shrugging. "She just is. I'm actually proud of her, I figured she would have been passed out by now." Looking back she saw Kivan was on her haunches, talking to Rora at face level to where she sat on the floor. "Well, okay, but I'm going." Imoen said, shaking her head in irritation and continuing to the door. "Wait!" Came a voice from behind her. She was surprised the hear it was Rora's. "I'll come… if we all go, all four of us…" Imoen raised an eyebrow. "Really? No kidding?" She ridiculed, and then feeling bad about it, smiled. Kivan helped Rora to her feet and the slim elf got up on a table and cleared her throat. "Um, dear people of-uh-the Cloakwood Mines. We're going to go out and find the boy, no matter what faces us. We just ask you stay indoors, no matter what happens, or what you hear-"

"Comforting…" Kneve whispered.

"Keep a constant watch, and wait until sunrise until taking further action. If we do not return-" Imoen cut her off. "We will return." She said, dragging Rora off the table. "No need to make a bloody fuss about it." She said, but with a smile. "What made you change your mind?" She asked the elf, in a quieter voice.

"Oh just something Kivan said…" the red head replied, voice still shaking, none of its usual wit audible. "Oh – say no more…" Imoen said, grinning now as she winked at Rora, hoping to get her spirits high. "No need for intimate details, eh?"

"No…" Rora said, stopping dead and putting an arm on Imoen, "no. He said, what if it was Wells…" This confused Imoen, as to why the elf's current lover would be mentioning the obvious love of her life, but the mage reminded herself how confusing elves tended to be, and shrugged. Rora continued, not overlooking the look on Imoen's face. "I think I finally get it – this quest you're on… Merrick and all…" She added, in a slow and somber tone. "I couldn't bear to lose my love. I love Wells, no matter what I do when he's not around…" A sad smile played on her lips. "Lets go find this kid." As the foursome walked bolding out into the night Rora's words echoed in Imoen's head. _"I finally get it – Merrick and all… I couldn't bear to lose my love…"_ But, Rora's feelings for Wells couldn't be compared to hers to Merrick. No. In fact, Imoen reassured herself, the elf would have said the same thing about Kneve, if given the chance, and Kneve was her best friend, not her lover. She knew she would. Right…?


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Pulses hammering in their ears and stillness all around the four groups of people stood waiting, silently, surrounding the cabins. Even the youngest child could sense the tension in the air. Out of the darkness of the trees growls and shuffling could be heard, and in all honesty Imoen was surprised the pack had held off as long as it had, waiting in the shadows. Without warning an arrow whizzed through the air made contact with a hairy hide. "NOW!" Kivan's voice came, ringing clear through the silence, which was now broken by the wail of the injured animal. As if spring loaded the villagers came to life with a collective yell, and charged forward into the night, meeting the beasts in the trees.

"If we can distract them, even for a minute, we can get the upper hand." Kneve had announced earlier. "So, when we set up as planned, meeting everyone one of them face to face, we'll wait for Kivan's arrow to get one of them – that's all we need."

"In the confusion they won't be as ready for us. Those stinky dogs wont know what hit them, until its too late. " Imoen had thrown in, nodding. Now metal came into contact with muscle and the roars of anger and pain from the werewolves was deafening in the empty wood. As the miners and the group of adventurers retreated back into the cluster of houses the wolves followed, abandoning their vigil in rage. Claws flew and wood splintered as men met beast. Sparks flew as iron and steel clashed with torn werewolf flesh… Imoen rolled away from an attacking wolf in time to avoid his nails, but caught a bite on the shoulder as she rushed to her feet. Crying out in pain she lashed out with a series of Magic Missiles, which sent the wolf to the ground, smoking. As the corpse began to slowly melt back into a battered and naked version of the creature Imoen had to turn away, and she caught glimpses of the battle. Deep in combat the ground was beginning to shine red, even in the dark, and bodies lay around her. In the light she wasn't sure which were wolf-men and which were the miners, but in truth she really didn't want to know. She saw Kivan sending arrows into the nearest wolves, faster than she could count, and she notice Kneve locked in contest with a particularly large beast, her small sword hardly reaching it safely. "Kivan!" Imoen shouted, getting the elf's attention, "there!" She pointed to Kneve, who was now being backed into the siding of a home, with nowhere to go, and no hope of fending off the werewolf if she lost the space behind her. In a flash an arrow pierced the wolf's back, which gave the thief the chance she needed for a deathblow to the throat. "Ha!" She cried out, kicking the beast to the ground, before bending down, breath labored. "Kivan, I think its now!" Rora called from her place on the roof. Despite her strong will she was still the first one to volunteer for watch duty. Whistling Kivan gathered them to him and without another look back they took off from the battle and into the woods, using the one path that had been unguarded to begin with. "We have ten minutes, tops, to get as far away from that place as possible, and find the boy." Kneve called out, as the four of them ran through the path. "Woah, guys, hold up, now!" Imoen called from behind, making them all stop dead and spin on the spot. "Look at this." She said, keeping her voice low, as when at rest they were still targets. She brushed a bush away from a rotten sign nailed into an old tree. "Can you read it?" She asked the elves, not trusting her own eyesight in the dark. Rora stepped in,

"Lo, travelers – tay to the trails deep in

the wood – Beasts wander & peril is always

afoot. Beware the encampment to the northwest,

strangers are not there welcome."

She read aloud, shuddering at the receding howls behind them. "I guess it's to the northwest we head, then." Imoen said, with a small smile. "Of course."

"Wh-why?" Rora asked, as they began running again, taking a new course, led by Kivan. "Because, think about it, dunderhead. If there were a pack of werewolves in the middle of an unoccupied forest, where would they be coming from? Perhaps the only encampment for miles around?! Sheesh…" She shook her head from side to side, an incredulous look on her small face, "now, come on, let's get going." The path they took was dark and damp, as the air continued to get colder and wetter around them, and with a look up Imoen saw that heavy clouds had moved in over the moon. The light that did penetrate was casting eerie blue shadows, and everything was silent, except for the sound the two human's made as they followed their elven brethren. Brushing branches away from their faces and tearing feet from sucking mud holes they finally stumbled to a stop when Kivan held up a hand. "What is it?" Imoen whispered in his ear as he strained his hearing for the sound that had halted them. "I hear another." He said before motioning for them to continue, but quietly. "This way." They veered into the woods, stepping lightly over fallen logs and stumbling in the darkness. After about a minute of travel Kivan beckoned Imoen forward, asking her to go ahead quietly and check the place out. "We'll stay here and watch your back." Rora added. "Thanks." Imoen hissed back, trying to keep her voice to a minimum. Making her way closer to the opening in the trees Imoen looked back and saw she could no longer see her friends. Letting out a long breath she continued forward, to the cusp of the clearing, gazing into the darkness for a full minute before seeing anything in the gloom. As her eyes adjusted, she took a sharp intake of breath as the scene before her. The clearing was littered with bodies of werewolves, or rather former werewolves, as they now resembled little more than masses of naked flesh. There were four or five, if she counted correctly. In the center there stood a massive shape, she guessed to be the last remaining member of this group. "So I _was_ right." She marveled, "the boy did bring them in here." She astonished that he had crossed such a long distance in so little time, but then at the thought of six angry werewolves at her tail she reconsidered. Speaking of the boy, where was he? She thought, looking around for any sign of where he would have gone. Shrugging she turned to make her way back to where the others were when she heard the sounds of massive paws hitting the ground. "Oh… no…" She breathed, turning slowly around to see what she had feared. "I'm up wind…" She thought, panicking – the wolf had smelled her. "Kivan, Rora, Kneve!" She called before barreling into the field, daggers at ready and magic primed within her. Even from this distance she could see the hulking shape of the wolf coming at her. Imoen could smell its musky, unwashed scent and its fetid breath and she gagged, before focusing her energies on her lightning spell. Shooting the bolt from her fingertips moments later she dodged to the right, just in case the wolf would keep coming with thousands of volts in his system. She was right, he did. Smoldering slightly, but howling in rage the werewolf lunged at the petite woman, towering over her in its frenzy. Imoen was too quick – ducking aside she swiped with her left dagger, catching the beast's ear, spilling its blood down her arm, before letting loose another torrent of spells. Acid, fire, ice. This was too much for the werewolf, and it gave one final swipe, knocking Imoen to the ground, before fleeing into the trees. Crying out in pain and clutching her side, where the animal had slashed her, she sunk to her knees, watching the blood soak through her tunic and out onto her hands. The last thing she heard before the world went dark was a howl, the zing of an arrow, and then a whimper, followed by silence of the deepest kind.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

"I feel wet…" Imoen thought, eyes still closed, as she came out of sleep. "And why is this bed so damn hard…" Opening her eyes she jerked in surprise as she saw she was outdoors, lying in the middle of an open field. Gradually the memories came flooding back and her hand went to her ribs, where she felt a bandaged mass, she could only guess was one of her friend's spare tunics. She was wet, and for good reason, it seemed while she was unconscious the heavens had finally opened up, and the storm that had been looming all day had arrived. She looked up to see that her companions had moved her into the semi-shelter of the trees, and that they were nowhere to be seen. Grunting and wincing in pain as she struggled to raise herself to a leaning position, she gazed around and let out a cry of surprise when she saw a body, naked, battered and bloody, lying next to her. Panic overcame her and she got to her knees, hoping to the Gods it wasn't Kneve or Rora, until she saw the gory stump of an ear. "The wolf…" She muttered, her heart beat slowly returning to normal. A sense of remorse crept through her as she stared at the woman who lay dead. Had she even been aware of the actions the moon beckoned her to do? Imoen sighed and got to her feet, slowly, still clutching her side. As she walked back out into the clearing a shout from Rora met her. "Imoen! You're okay!" The elf said, her red hair plastered to her head from the rain. Kneve and Kivan turned around, the former grinning ear-to-ear when she saw the thief was up. "You must rest." Kivan said, making his way to her. "Nah, I'm fine, really." Imoen said, shrugging. In truth she hurt like hell, but it seemed to be ebbing away, much to her surprise. "But I think I dropped my dagger, did you find it?" She asked, trying to walk past the group and into the field. "Whoa, whoa." Rora said, grabbing her shoulder gently, "sit. Please. You're hurt." She gave Kneve a look, begging for help. "Uh, yeah. Sit." Kneve replied, glancing nervously over her shoulder. "Really, I'm fine." Imoen repeated, annoyed. "Just let me find my dagger." Pushing her way past the two women she came face to face with Kivan, "hey, thanks for the dressing, buddy." She said, smiling, and going around him. Kivan put out an arm to stop her, "Imoen, please, stay here."

"What is up with you guys? You'd think I was decapitated or something. Geeze!" She raised her voice, spinning to look at them all. Kivan took in a breath, then said, "Imoen, you don't want to go into that field. Not right now…"

"What? Why?" She asked, perplexed. "Its okay, I woke up next to a dead werewolf, I'm okay to see a few more."

"No… its-it's the boy." Kivan said, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We found him." The color drained from Imoen's face as she slowly turned her head to face the meadow. "No…" She said slowly, face creasing in disbelief and pain. "Nah. No way, its probably just another werewolf."

"We found this." Rora spoke, softly, pulling a gold chain from her pocket. "I saw you wearing it the night we tried to ambush you in the woods…" Silently Imoen took the necklace, which was indeed her own. Gazing into the field she saw the three of them had removed all the slain, except one. "You don't want to see…" Kneve said, "trust us. Its better if you didn't." Imoen ignored her and approached the small mound, dropping to her knees. The boy was dead. There was no other way to put it. Thankfully the rain had washed some of the gore away, but the gruesome sight that lay before her made Imoen sick, with both loss and queasiness. Holding her stomach she vomited in the grass, tears mingled with heaves. It seemed she had interrupted the wolf's dinner when she came upon the clearing, and the mess of tissue and gore that was left was too much for the woman to bear. Taking off her cloak she placed it over the boy and got to her feet, uneasily. She saw his sword, too big to be pictured in his tiny hands, lying a few feet away and she picked it up, and carried it back to the others. Handing the sword to Kivan she dried her tears and wiped the dripping rainwater from her chin. "We have to go back to his mother." She said, somberly, "We have to tell her what happened." Kivan shook his head, "we cannot go back, its too dangerous." He said, meeting Imoen's gaze with one full of calming influence. "We have to!" She argued, "if one boy can fend off six grown wolves, then why can't we!" She yelled, loosing her temper, more out of grief than real anger. "If one innocent boy paid with his life, why can't we go back to tell his family his fate?!" The tears came again, and she wiped them away, angrily. "Imoen…" Kivan started, "there are countless wolves still out there. As for now, we have been lucky they haven't come after us, but I know they know we are out here, near their home. They have probably surrounded the paths leading back to the settlement; knowing we'd come back. They may be animals, but they retain their intelligence. The villagers were not told to kill them, just to hold them off while we escaped. We can't go back that way."

"They need to know! They need to know he died a hero! That he was doing what he knew best, what he thought-" she couldn't go on, and Kivan opened his arms to her, holding her close while she cried. After awhile she backed away, eyes red, but calm. "How are we going to get out of here, then?" She asked, "They won't let us wait until sunrise."

"No, they wont." The elf agreed, scanning the field, but not saying anything further. It worried Imoen to see even Kivan stumped by a situation.

"Hey, isn't Cloakwood bordered by the Chionthar River?" Rora put in, "doesn't it lay directly across from the harbor into Baldur's Gate?"

"Yeah, I remember the Atlas at the Guild had a map of the City, and I always kept that in mind, that the forest could be used as an escape route…" Kneve added, eyes lighting up. "Should we try that?"

"How are we going to get across the river?" Imoen asked, "It's a long way."

"We could build a raft." Kneve said.

"Hah, funny." Imoen answered, "We don't have that kind of time."

"We can swim it." Rora suggested, "It's not like we're not already wet."

"That's a long way for us humans." Kneve said, hesitantly, "but we could try it."

"I guess, yeah." Imoen said, looking to Kivan for approval.

"Imoen." He said, "one of us may make it back to the mine, unaccompanied. One of us could inform the boy's family of his fate…"

"You?" Imoen asked, "Are you sure, Kivan. What if its too dangerous?"

"I will be fine, I can keep to the trees if need be." He replied, casting an uncertain look to Rora, who was pointedly looking away. "I can accompany you to the river, and then turn back." Everyone nodded at this, except Rora.

Making their way to the river was easier than Imoen had expected. Other than the occasional torrent of water from the trees, they even managed to stay relatively dry in the denser parts of the woods – even though Imoen could now see lightning jumping from cloud to cloud. It turned out they were almost on its banks anyway, and did not have to go far downstream to find where they could see the lights of the harbor clearly. The bad news was, it was only the lights they could see; not even the outline of a ship was visible at that distance, even to Rora and Kivan. After much gazing into the river and silent worrying about the water and lightening, and the distance between shores, Imoen turned to see Kivan looking to the woods behind them. "I guess this is where we say goodbye. Again?" She asked, a sad smile on her lips. "Hey, its alright, we'll meet again, I know it. How could I let my favorite elf out of my sight for too long?" Kivan gave an uncharacteristic smile and wrapped his arms around her, surprising her with a bear hug. "I'll never forget you…" She whispered in his ear, placing a light kiss on his cheek. "Goodbye, fair Imoen. May you find whatever you seek." He said, bowing slightly. "And Kneve," he said, turning to the girl, "never could a ranger ask for fairer company in his travels." Tipping his head to her he turned to see Rora avoiding his eyes, some distance away from the group. Kneve and Imoen shared a glance and walked to the edge of the river, giving them time. Turning back Imoen saw Kivan approach Rora and say something, inaudible. The thief could see the she-elf wiping away tears as Kivan embraced her, holding her to him for a long time. When they broke away he placed a long and passionate kiss on her lips, and then a gentler one on her forehead. Turning back to the river she eventually heard Rora come up behind them, no longer crying. Kneve put her arm around her friend and Rora leaned into her, sighing. "You okay?" Imoen asked, quietly, "oh yeah." Rora replied, smiling, dejectedly, "I knew it was coming, eventually. Before he knew about Wells, Kivan asked me to go with him when we all parted ways. I told him I couldn't. Not for Kneve or Wells's sake… I guess I just got attached to this one, that's all." She added, with a slow shrug. "Imoen!" Came a call from behind, and Imoen turned to see Kivan's small form in the treeline. "What shall I tell them? The miners?" Imoen thought for a moment then said, "tell them he died protecting them. That he was happy. Tell them he died a hero." She waved and watched as he turned and strode into the trees, melting into them like a shadow.

"So, who wants to go for a swim?" She said, putting her arms around the pair and shivering in the damp rain, "it might be refreshing."


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Sputtering and coughing Imoen flung her hand from the dark waters of the harbor, desperate for Rora to grab hold. The last of the three in the water she threw her hand up again, and, to her relief, felt Rora's powerful grip pull her up and onto the dock. Collapsing on the wet boards she struggled for breath as she lay, face against wood, just happy to be on solid ground again. Next to her Kneve was still spitting up water and coughing. "Make it alive?" Imoen asked, between breaths, smiling at the girl. "Think so." She replied, lapsing into a fit again. "You two going to live?" Rora asked, bending down, hands on haunches as she surveyed the humans, "are am I going to have to find a temple in this place?"

"Har, har." Imoen said, sitting up and offering her hand to the elf, "help me up would you?" As she climbed to her feet she looked back out onto the waters, and then up to the turmoil riddle sky. Purple and grey clouds swirled together, lightning firing between them at regular intervals. From the dock Kneve jumped at a particularly loud clap of thunder, and rolled over, her breath coming out in short bursts. "I have an idea." She said, looking up at the other two "lets find a bloody inn, and get a drink."

"Here, here!" Rora agreed, helping her friend to her feet, "lets go." With one final look to the river the three women turned their backs to it, and strolled away, up to the streets of Baldur's Gate. Secretly, Imoen hoped it was the last time she set eyes on a body of water larger than a bathing tub for a long time…

Unfortunately finding a place to sit and a strong drink proved to be more difficult than the trio could have imagined. It seemed like every tavern, inn, safe haven and boarding house in Baldur's Gate was full. "We've been turned away from the Blade and Stars, Jopalin's, the Low Lantern, and now the Elfsong!" Imoen grumbled, leaving the warmth and light of the Inn behind her as they exited onto the street. "I guess we're going to have to try the Upper City." She mumbled, motioning for the other two to follow her through the back alleys she still knew so well. Moving silently past beggars and cutthroats, through the shadows of the lanes between the rows and homes and shops. Rora and Kneve looked on with admiration as they struggled to keep up with Imoen. "Now, this is the Imoen Gorion we read about." Rora marveled, as the trio halted and Imoen looked back at them, "wait here." She said, grinning as she looked across the way and saw a Flaming Fist Guard asleep at his post. "I'm going to get us some more pocket money…" Nimbly crossing the street she ducked behind a barrel to avoid being spotted by a horse and driver that went trotting by. Crouching low as they disappeared from sight she continued her course towards the sleeping guard, approaching him from the side. Creeping towards him Imoen giggled, softly, as she reached out her hand, slipping it slowly into his pocket. Suddenly she froze, standing completely still as the guard grumbled and moved his mouth silently. Very slowly she closed her fingers around his money pouch and drew it out of his pocket, careful not to make a sound. "Thanks, buddy." She said, patting his cheek lightly. "You just paid for our room and supper." Laughing as she darted back across the street she threw the purse to Rora, who caught it and opened it to find it brimming with gold. "Whoa, maybe we all should have become City Watch instead," she breathed, "they seem to make a killing doing nothing but sleeping."

"Lets keep going. I need a drink after that – it's been awhile since I plundered anyone." Imoen said, smiling. Silently scaling the wall that divided the Lower and Upper Cities the three women strolled down the center of a street. "I can think of one place in this City where no body gets turned away. Whether that's a good or bad thing, I'm not sure, but right now, I don't care." Imoen said, leading them deeper into the City, "Welcome to The Blushing Mermaid." She added, a crooked smile on her lips, "full of the worst drunks, sailors, scum and general filth this City has to offer, but it'll do for tonight." Pushing open the door a wave of smoke and stale beer hit their nostrils and they made their way through the raucous crowd to the bar. "Any rooms?" Imoen asked, glancing from side to side at the ruffians around her, "we need three."

"All I got is two left." The barkeep a beefy, greasy man, said, without even glancing up from the flagon he was filling. Imoen looked back to Rora and Kneve who shrugged, then said, "We'll share."

"We'll take them, and three of your strongest ales." The bartender nodded in agreement as Imoen dropped the gold needed on the counter. As he went to grab it the thief shot a nimble hand out and grabbed his wrist, "and no trouble from the lot." She added, all playfulness gone, as she cocked her head back to the tavern. When she let go, where her hand had been there lay an extra pile of gold, which made the man's eyes grow wide. "Sure thing, missus."

"Much obliged." Imoen replied, grinning, "now, where are those ales?"

The ales arrived, followed by another, and another, and another, until neither Kneve nor Imoen could rely on their feet to support themselves. "This is the life…" Kneve slurred, putting her feet up on the table and turning to Rora, who was making eyes at the only decent looking fellow in the joint. If anything she had drunken more than her human companions, combined, but being an elf, the only influence she felt was the one fueled by desire for this new man. Beckoning him over she put her arm around his slender shoulders and whispered, "Let me buy you a drink." And the pair walked over to the bar, the man, no more than a boy really, looking like he considered himself the luckiest man in Faerun.

Across the room Imoen was surrounded by a group of hard looking sailors and merchants, who were howling in laughter. Deep in the middle of a story about her days in Candlekeep Imoen was standing on a table, holding her flagon in hand and keeping the entire lot of the unlikely audience spellbound, despite the slurring of the story. "So along comes this three-armed Balor who flies into Candlekeep in the middle of the night and storms his way over the Winthrop's cell and drinks the milk. He put up such a fuss and a racket, pounding on the door to Winthrop's cell, that he woke up just about everyone in the keep. Including Gorion, who usually slept very soundly and didn't wake up very well, anyway…" She said, laughing drunkenly, "Well, Gorion was all groggy and thought the keep was under attack and just about blew the roof off with a series of fireballs and lightning bolts. Merrick was so scared he cried like a baby!" Collapsing onto the table in a fit of giggles it took Imoen a moment to regain her spot in the story. Sitting up, small legs dangling over the side of the table, she continued. 

"Gorion was terribly angry. He was grumbling and Merrick was bawling, people were running around everywhere ... it was a terrible scene. _And_ they banned goat's milk from the keep, which meant that Winthrop had to dust his own room after that point!" In a finishing flourish she downed the rest of her drink and motioned to the barkeep for another.

"What happened to the Balor?" Came a voice from the crowd.

"Oh, uh. I think the monks bought him off with a tome of jokes about baatezu." Imoen recovered, scrunching up her face in memory, "I hear he's been touring the Abyss ever since. Gets heckled a lot, but what do you expect for a comedian in hell?" To the roar of the group Imoen took a bow and sat back down on the table, grabbing a piece of bread from the plate of a surly looking dwarf, who just gave her a crooked smile. "Fine story, lassie." He grumbled.

"She could charm the pants off the prince." Kneve wondered, sitting at her own table. "A song!" She called over to Imoen, who looked over to her with a grin, "a ballad!" To the agreement of the crowd Imoen cleared her throat and got back to her feet, unsteadily. "Okay, okay." She mumbled in mock frustration, "but nothing long, I'm thirsty…" Closing her eyes she opened her mouth and her high, sweet voice, filled the room, which instantly became quieter than it had been all night.

"_Home is behind, the world ahead_

_and there are many paths to tread._

_Through shadow, to the edge of night,_

_until the stars are all alight._

_Mist and shadow, cloud and shade,_

_all shall fade, all shall fade."_

"_Mist and shadow, cloud and shade –_ " she began again, when unexpectedly a strong male voice joined in. " _– all shall fade, all shall fade_. I know that song!" Came a boisterous voice followed by banging of the door closing. Imoen's eyes snapped open – she knew that voice! "Merrick…" She breathed, jumping from the table and pushing her way through the crowd. "Eh, you!" Came the barkeep's voice, anger mix with exasperation, "I told you to stay outta here, you cause too much trouble!" He bellowed, coming around the counter as he wiped his hands on his apron. Making his way towards the tall blond man he was stopped by the tiny form of Imoen, "its okay, he's with me. I'll take care of him." She said, slipping more gold into his pocket. Shrugging the barkeep eyed her then said, "He's yours then. Keep him under control."

"Yeah." She replied, already turning around and heading towards Merrick's stumbling form.

"Hey Im." He said, slurring his words. "What are you doing here?" His step faltering he almost fell, but the woman caught him, still to dumbfound for words. "Come on, we need to get you somewhere where you wont cause trouble." She finally said, amazing herself at how sober she suddenly felt. Looking around for Rora and Kneve she found the later gaping at her from a table in a corner. Shrugging her confusion Imoen led Merrick up the stairs to her room.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

When they reached the third floor and closed the door Imoen turned around and found Merrick sitting on the bed, looking at her. "I love you, Imoen." His voice came; full of emotion that Imoen expected was put there by the drink. "Oh, shut up Merrick, you're drunk." Imoen spat at him, not meaning to sound so angry, as she went around the room lighting candles. "Yes, I am." Merrick agreed, "But that doesn't matter. I love you anyway."

"Merrick, do both of us a favor and go to sleep." Imoen said, sitting down in a chair next to the window. "Look, we can talk tomorrow, when we're both more levelheaded. I didn't come all this way to talk to you drunk."

"Why'd you follow me?" Merrick asked, getting unsteadily to his feet and making his way to the water bucket. "Why didn't you stay back and marry your bard?" He plunged his head into the water and drew it out, shaking his hair from side to side, and splattering Imoen with yet more water that night. "Leave Jos out of this, please." She said, softly, "and I told you, I don't want to talk to you when you're like this."

"You're drunk too." Merrick retorted, pushing his soaking hair from his face, "so why not? Since when have you been so guarded with whom and when you talk? Gods, that's not who I left back in Candlekeep." He sat back down on the bed, across from her, "look, since we're both here now, I want to say sorry for what happened. When we – uh, well…" he trailed off, looking at the floor. "When I kissed you." He mumbled, unable to look at her. "I shouldn't have, not with Jos there. But I just had to… its taking everything in me not to do it again."

"Merrick." Imoen said, her voice flat, "don't. We can't talk like this. I'm engaged, _to be married_, Merrick. Don't you get that? I love Jos. Enough to be his wife. _His wife_, Merrick." She continued, ignoring the growing uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. Once again it was a rush to be alone with him, to have him sitting right there. She felt a tingle go up her spine. "Despite any mutual attraction that there may be between us, I am in love with Jos, I love all of him, not just an idea I have of a man I used to know…" She trailed off, knowing she had said too much.

"Ha! You said it." Merrick cried, a goofy grin on his face, "mutual attraction?! Imoen stop pretending."

"Geeze, Merrick. Listen to me! No. I didn't come after you to proclaim some deep undying love, get your head out of the clouds, you harebrained fool! Isn't that supposed to be where mine is?" She spat, angry with him but wanting to hold him at the same time. "I came to make sure you didn't get yourself killed over some silly childhood crush."

"It's my fault, Im." Merrick said, slowly, "I didn't see it before… I never realized until now. I've always loved you. Ever since we were little. I just didn't know it was love. How did I know that no friendship could possibly make me feel this way – go this deep? Don't make me regret my stupidity for the rest of my life." He said, standing up and walking around the room. "If I had only known…"

"Merrick, you're drunk… your tongue is loose." Imoen began, getting up from the chair and going to where he stood. Putting her hand on his shoulder, which was still wet from the rain and the water bucket, she continued, "Come on, goofball… let it go. Yeah, there were times when I would have killed for you to say this… but that was a long time ago. I was a kid, you were a big strapping hero, and my best friend, and yeah, maybe I longed for you to come to me on those cold nights outside of Beregost, and Nashkell, and even Amn. But now… well, we're older. I've let go of that fantasy." She lied, feeling the words tainted and ugly in her mouth. In truth her hand trembled as she touched his arm, turning him around to look at her, "on my way here, I realized there was a time I may have said yes, Merrick. I know you're going to think I'm a real baby, but I pined for you when I went back to Candlekeep. There were nights I cried myself to sleep, longing for your laugh and smile and your embrace. Yeah, I guess that's more than just friendship… maybe long ago I might have loved you, but now, its too late. Now you're just a big ugly brute…" She added, punching his arm.

"It's never too late! You don't love me – fine, maybe you've forgotten the feelings, maybe you've been out of my presence for too long for you to remember, but you can't deny you feel something…" Merrick replied, slurring, but looking her square in the eyes all the same. She could see herself in the grey swirls, and how they made her heart jump like Jos's never had. How could she deny that this _was_ something? Why was she being so stubborn and not just following what her heart was telling her too? "Because no one took you seriously all those years ago," She thought, "you've matured." Yeah, she had, but she'd also hated every minute of it. Deep down she wished she could just throw caution to the wind and be impulsive and fun, like she used to be… Why couldn't she just take the first step towards that and give into him? Just admit to herself and to him that she _did_ feel something? "Because you love Jos more," her brain screamed at her, "don't be stupid and throw the love you know is there away. Go back to Candlekeep."

"It's never too late." Merrick repeated, putting his hands on her shoulders, "marry me."

"Oh, come on, Merrick!" Imoen said, actually laughing. "I'm not stupid, you know. I know you don't want to marry me! Geeze, give me a little credit."

"Okay, okay, fine… fine, not marriage. Come away with me, then. Come back out on the road. We can have our old life, just us. I'm in love with you, Imoen, desperately. I know that now… don't turn me away…"

"I don't want to go back out on the road, Merrick!" Imoen yelled, her temper finally getting the better of her, "I'm sick of arrows and swords and danger. Of getting hurt and of death, and not knowing where I'm going to end up at the end of the day… I want to settle down, and I want to live my life! I've grown up, Merrick; I'm not the chipmunk with a sugar-high and a death wish I was…"

"You're lying." Merrick calmly said, "I know you too well…"

"Oh yeah? You don't know half of what I've been through. Half of what _the road_ had done to me – left on me. Want to see my latest 'adventure'" She asked, scathingly, pulling up her tunic, "look, Merrick, see those? Those are from a werewolf. Just another fun day on the road." Fury had taken over her voice, but to what or whom it was directed Imoen could not place.

Merrick's face stared intently at the wounds – now little more than scars – the wolf had left on Imoen's side. As long as the daggers she carried they swept along her ribcage, from below her chest to her hip. "Im. Whoa…"

"That's what I'm leaving behind, Merrick…" She said, calmer now. She let out a long breath and dropped her shirt, but Merrick's hand had found its way to the scars, and she flinched. They looked healed, but they were still tender. "Sorry." He said, pulling back slightly, but not all the way. "I… didn't mean to… hurt you…" He breathed, stepping closer to her. His hands stayed on her side, as he leaned into her. "That may be so. But this is what you're leaving behind…" He whispered, face inches from hers. "Merrick –" she breathed, closing her eyes. "Shush." His mouth met hers, softly, and she leaned back into him, a small moan leaving her lips. She wrapped her hands around his back, all hesitations and arguments halted by the kiss. She felt his calloused hands move from her scars to her stomach, and up under her tunic, to her exposed breasts. Gods he was so gentle with her. She had always imagined his touch to be rougher, like his swordplay, but this – Gods she had never expected this. His lips left hers and found their way to her neck and collarbone, and Imoen tilted her head back, a wordless expression of ecstasy leaving her mouth. All thoughts of turning back were abandoned and Imoen embraced the lust and emotion for this man that had been sleeping in her for years, with a fervor that scared her. Savoring his breath and touch on her skin she groped at his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor. They stopped, hands remaining on each other's bodies, staring at each other. "Take me slowly…" Imoen said breathlessly, leaning in and nibbling on his ear. As the rain hit the window and another clap of thunder shook the inn Merrick nodded as he gently picked her up and began to carry her towards the bed. Imoen responded by wrapping her legs around his waist and kissing his taut neck and shoulders. The muscular man laid his lover on the bed and followed, knees on either side of her petite form. As he approached he stopped to gaze, smiling, down at her, "I love you, Imoen." He said, one hand exploring the soft skin of her thigh, the other finding places Jos had never been able to. Barely able to reply Imoen murmured, "I think I love you too…"


	18. Chapter Eighteen

At that moment there came a soft, but urgent sounding, knock on the door. "Ignore it." Merrick said, fumbling with his belt. "Imoen?" Came a muffled voice, "Imoen, I can't seem to find Rora!" Kneve said, opening the door and walking in before the sight before her sunk in. "Oh-oh. Oh!" She sputtered, holding a hand to her eyes. "Uh, sorry… I just… I didn't expect – I'll just go." She added, quickly exiting, and slamming the door to avoid giving the whole inn a free show. Imoen sat up and looked from the door to Merrick to her naked body. She blushed and pulled a sheet up around her, much to Merrick's objection. "I've been waiting a long time to see that." Merrick purred, apparently unheeded by Kneve's abrupt entrance. "Merrick. I think we should stop." Imoen said, pulling away from his kiss. "I know what I said, but I'm still engaged to Jos. It wouldn't be right." Merrick looked at her, his face a mixture of dumbfoundment and loss. "So take the ring off…" He said, slowly, laughter coming back into his voice. Imoen shook her head. "Look… I need to think. Alone. Let's talk about this tomorrow… okay?" Merrick bit his lip, trying to read her face, "alright. Just let me say goodnight…" He said, leaning in for another kiss, which trailed down her neck. "Merrick." Imoen said, giggling despite herself and finding it so hard to make him stop, "please. Don't make me pull a withering spell out on you!"

"Yeah, okay." He said, climbing out of the bed, finding his shirt and opening the door. "Oh, wait." Imoen called, making him turn around. She got out of the bed; the sheet wrapped around her like a robe, and found the purse she had taken from the guard. "Pay the barkeep to find you a place to sleep. You have enough gold in there to _buy_ an inn, so don't give him all of it!" She laughed, knowing his less than adequate skills with people. As gave him a little wave as he left and flopped back down onto the bed, surprised by the tears that flowed so readily.

Arising with the sun the next morning Imoen dressed quickly and made her way down to the tavern, where she found Merrick asleep with his head against the wall and his feet up on the table in front of him. More empty flagons surrounded him. Brushing her hair from her forehead and letting out a long breath she hesitated, not want to do what she was about to.

"How can you say that? You said last night –"

"We both had too much to drink last night, Merrick! It was almost the biggest mistake I could have made."

"You said you loved me!" Merrick bellowed, jumping to his feet.

"I do… I think… I don't know, Merrick!" Imoen replied, her shrill voice matching his in volume, "I love you, but I'm still getting married…" She said, trying to see if it was the whole truth, and ignoring the fact that there was a small bit of her that said no.

"You're lying." Merrick said, calmer now, "I know you are."

"Oh yeah, how, blockhead?" She spat, the old jest back in her voice, despite the seriousness of their confrontation.

"Because I saw it in your eyes last night." Merrick replied, sitting back down.

"What you saw in my eyes… that wasn't…it was just-" She dragged off, lost for words.

"It was…" He replied, steadfast, "and I know it. You do to, you're just denying it… forget about Jos."

"No, Merrick!" Imoen said, slamming her hands down on the tabletop, "I'm not going to abandon him, just leave him in misery because of what I may feel for you."

"Why won't you let yourself feel for me what you want to? Why hide it, or mask it, or pretend like its not there?!"

"Because, I'm not going to let you hurt me, again!" Imoen cried, throwing her hands up in the air, "because I don't trust this. I don't trust that what I felt all those years is still there. I don't trust that you actually feel the same way. What if you're using this as some kind of grieving experience? What if you get tired of me? Because it's too much to feel, Merrick. It can't possibly be real when it's this huge; this consuming. I'm used to being the jester, the sidekick, the one who is never paid attention too, and now suddenly everything you feel is centered on me! Its too much." She cried, fear and frustration mingled in her voice. "Merrick, in hindsight, I've always felt this way, I've just buried it, or forgotten about it, or something. So, how can I let it out now – I'm so used to it being something that's there and not acted on. I've dealt with it being a non-entity in my life long enough for it to become comfortable that way, I don't want to ruin everything by dragging it up again!" She sunk into a chair and looked away from him.

"I'm not going to leave you, ever again, if you say you love me, Imoen." Merrick said, "And it can be real – it is real! It's wonderful. I've never felt this way about anyone before – except I have! Isn't that the kicker!? I always have felt this for you, how come I didn't know? Imoen the grass is always greener on the other side. I didn't realize what I had in front of me, all those years…" He admitted, "We've been in love for years, Im, we've just never had to think about it – we _didn't_ think about it."

"Listen to me, Merrick, I am not going to throw everything I have away. I love you, but I love Jos more…"

"Stop lying to yourself!" Merrick cried, putting a large hand over hers, "please."

"Just… give me time." Imoen replied, not sure why she couldn't just walk away from him and back to her fiancé in Candlekeep. "Do that for me?" Merrick nodded, sullenly, and Imoen got up, placed a small kiss on his forehead, followed by a playful punch on his arm, and walked back up the stairs. On the landing she heard the scuffling of fast moving feet and darted around the corner to find a blushing Kneve and Rora. "Heya, Imoen." Rora said, fixing her hair, nonchalantly, "hey." Kneve added, raising a hand in a wave. "Nice try, guys… so I guess I don't have to undergo the tasks of trying to explain what I told him – that's a plus side I guess." She shrugged, "oh, and Kneve, about last night…" She added, blushing a bit. "Say no more." Kneve cut in, "Scout's Honor, no tales shall leave these lips."

"Except to me." Rora said, with a wink, "I know all about the little romp."

"Half-romp" Imoen corrected, going a deeper red, "nothing else happened, guys, so get your minds out of the gutter."

"Sure…" Rora muttered.

"Really!" Imoen protested, "We… well, its complicated, but we, uh, stopped, I guess, is how you would put it."

"Why?!" The pair asked in unison, mouths agape.

"You heard the conversation." Imoen put in, annoyed, but smiling, "you know why."

"Yeah, but, come on, he's gorgeous, you don't just _stop_." Rora put in, scandalized at the very thought.

"Give it a rest you two ninny's." Imoen shot back, opening the door to her room and letting them come inside. Much to her amusement they avoided sitting on the bed. "So, I overheard a few stories about your hunk of burning love." Kneve said once they all had cups of strong, sweet tea, "apparently he came storming into Baldur's Gate with a sack full of bandit scalps, spreading victory stories about wiping out a group that had held him prisoner." She told, "according to the local drunks I got so acquainted with last night while you two were upstairs indulging your untamed passions," Rora shrugged, "he's got this whole revenge thing going for him right now. Wants to get even with everyone responsible for his old lover's death, and, if I heard right, the delay that cost him your love, Imoen." Imoen looked harshly at the other woman, "get real." She spoke, setting her cup of tea on the ground, "he can't possibly think-"

"He thinks exactly that!" Kneve broke in, "that maybe if he'd been able to get away from those bandits, thus avoid being sold to those miners, he'd have gotten back to Candlekeep before you said yes to your other lover boy."

"What? He's nuts…" Imoen said, "He can't possibly be taking revenge out on these people because of me."

"Yeah." Rora said, nodding, "he is."

"Oh no…" Imoen moaned, getting up and wandering over to the window. As she looked out over Baldur's Gate the memory of Gorion's message came floating back to her. _"Revenge is not always the wisest course, is it? If you do not wish to lose more the way others have lost go, my child, and find him…"_

"Rumor also has it that he's already got those bandits, and that he killed all those overseers in the mine when he escaped, but there are more out there he's trying to find. Apparently he found out the larger scheme of this…"

"I need to talk to him. I need to talk to Merrick, now." Imoen said, rushing out of the room and racing down the stairs, almost tripping on the last set. "Merrick!" She called, flying around the corner. To her relief, saw him sitting where she had left him. "What?" He answered, looking up from his ale, "first of all it's twelve o'clock, don't drink that." She scolded, nimbly taking the flagon from his, "no, I mean, why are you here?" She asked, abruptly.

"Uh, cause Bhaal and my mother had a little fling about 30 years ago." He replied, confused. "No, dufflebrain! I mean, in Baldur's Gate. I've been hearing things."

"Like what?" He asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Like that you've got some crazy notion about being caught by those miners."

"They killed Jaheria and took me captive, Imoen." Merrick replied, all jest gone from his face, "and wasted valuable time in my life…" He trailed off, obviously not keen to share anymore.

"Time that could have made me yours and not Jos's?" Imoen asked, eyebrows raised in mock seriousness. Merrick nodded, sheepishly. "Merrick, come on, maybe, just maybe, things would have been different if you'd come back earlier, but can you really blame that on these men? I met Jos longer than six months ago."

"Imoen, they made my life a living hell. They tortured me, and countless other poor men, and took away months of my life. They deserve to pay."

"And they have, or so I've heard." Imoen said, pointedly, "You got them. You've done your big-man-hero thing, now leave it be."

"Not all of them." Merrick replied, a growl in his voice Imoen had never liked. "When I escaped from those mines I killed every foreman, guard and overseer I could lay my hands on. I had other miners block the entrance, brandishing stolen weapons, and diversions made by cave-ins to get people where I wanted them. It took me months to plan and weeks to convince the others to join me. None of the dogs got out, and we all did. We were all freed. Not one of us was lost in the fight, but I'll tell you, I knew many men who lost their lives at the hand of those scum in the months before… And when I found the head overseer, in his little chamber full of furniture and fabrics we hadn't seen in months, drinking wine and eating meat, I made sure he paid the most. Before I ended his sorry life he told me that he wasn't the one orchestrating all this, oh no, it was someone else…" He stopped, the hate burning in his eyes scaring Imoen, "remember our old friends at the Iron Throne, Im? Well apparently when Sarevok went down the followers we didn't dispatch of broke off and founded a new operation… that's why they caught me so readily, Im, they remembered me. All the other poor souls stuck in that mine were easy targets: merchants and farmers and wayward sailors even. Some of them had never even been on the road alone before when they were taken. I was the odd man out, and it was as I was killing that son-of-a-whore I found out why. Now, I want to find them, the men that planned all of this, and kill them too…"

Imoen started to speak, but then closed her mouth, not sure what to say. "Not only did they make me suffer, but they did it on purpose, because of who I am. And, this is a major operation that has to be brought down… I just want to kill two birds with one stone."

"Hand it over to the guards, Merrick. They'll get every enforcement in the Sword Coast and Amn to hunt them down – leave it to them!" Imoen pleaded, much to Merrick's surprise.

"Why? When was the last I ran away from a fight, Imoen? A few years ago you would have been jumping to come with me, what's so different now?"

"Merrick, its just… revenge is a dish best served cold."

"What?" He asked, puzzled.

"It's dangerous to go seeking revenge, Merrick." She said, rolling her eyes at his ignorance. "I just have a bad feeling about this time… don't go. Please, for my sake. I can't loose you…" She admitted, head hung.

"Imoen, what are you talking about? I'll be fine." Merrick assured her, "really." He saw a tear drop from her cheek and hit her leg. "Okay, okay, I'll get the guards in on it… I promise." He said, with a smile, "I'll only do as much as they insist on… really." He added, reaching across the table and lifting her chin, "really! If it means that much to you." The tenderness in his eyes broke her heart, and she knew why he was letting it go so easily. "Merrick, I said I needed time." She said, cocking her head sideways like a puzzled dog, "I do."

"I know." He replied, truthfully, "but, like you had a feeling about me going after those bastards, I have a feeling about you needing time… a good one. Just give in, Imoen." He said with a goofy grin, "its inevitable!" Smiling he sat back, and Imoen's heart felt unusually heavy in her chest, "I need to take a walk." She said suddenly, getting to her feet. "Wha-where are you going?" Merrick said, throwing his hands up, "since when did you get so broody? Isn't that my job?!"

"I got sick of people telling me how innocent and immature I was!" Imoen called back.

"Oh, come on, Im!" Merrick said, making Imoen stop and turn to face him, "this isn't about me teasing you all those years? Let it go."

"Listen, Merrick," she said, temper flaring again, "all my life I was second fiddle, and I found a way to deal with that – I _liked_ it even: I was everyone's clown. Little Imoen. Everyone always telling me to grow up and fight my battles and stop joking around. So I do, and now what do I get from the one man who pushed it the most? 'Where's my old Imoen?' Well, Merrick, let me tell you, this is the new Imoen, and I've grown up!" She yelled, leaving a dumbfounded Merrick behind. Once outside she leaned against the wall and sobbed, the memory of his eagerness and the unsettled feeling in her heart too much for her. How was it possible to love two people at the same time, or, worse, to love a man you hadn't seen in so long more than your fiancé? "Not more." Imoen insisted, aloud, "not more!" She couldn't deny being with Merrick again wasn't amazing, it was, it just was confusing as well. All these emotions she had so successfully buried and ignored and let go of where suddenly back, full force, and no longer unreturned. He loved her, and he wanted her the way she was. What she had discreetly longed for as a youth, desperately dreamed of when he had been with Jaheria, and secretly dreamed up her entire adult life was real, so why not embrace it. Because it was true, she was confused. She loved Jos, no question about that, but also because she didn't want to be hurt by Merrick. Left again, just another kid to take care of, like she always was growing up. How could she trust something that felt so right? The good things always ended up biting her in the ass, in the end. As she made her way quietly through the city, letting her feet take her wherever they please, she thought… Why'd he have to show up and turn her life upside down? Until he showed up again she was content to love her fiancé and let her love for her best friend linger in the past… She was afraid of loving someone so deeply. Jos was comfortable; she loved him dearly, but not down to his soul. Not like Merrick. She knew Merrick's soul, she knew everything about him – everything. And she loved everything about him. So why did she keep insisting on the other way around? As she exited the city – by the gate this time and not the water – and crossed the large bridge into the countryside she listened to the wind in the trees and thought some more. "Merrick's not going to hurt you." She said aloud, "he's never intentionally hurt you, even as kids…" She muttered, "and you cannot keep lying about the fact that you feel different when he's around. You're happier. You're freer." She sighed. It was true. She felt so alive with Merrick; like her old self. She had lied to him about going back out on the road as well; she didn't want to settle down. She wanted adventure and sleeping under the stars and battles. There was nothing more she wanted than Merrick… "I love him." She finally said, closing her eyes as she let herself really feel that for the first time since they were youths. "I really love him."

So what was she to do about it? She couldn't just leave Jos, but she couldn't just go back to him either. You need Merrick. She thought, that's the difference… "Trust your emotions, for once, Imoen." She said to herself, slipping Jos's ring off her finger. "Like you used to."


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Making her way back to the bridge was slower than Imoen had expected. Despite the sunny morning the clouds had rolled back in around midday, and now the lands were covered in wet, soggy muck she had to navigate around. Although her heart was still heavy, and her mind befuddled with confusion and guilt, she somehow felt happier. Freer. Of course, like she had predicted, the good things always came to bite her in the ass, so when three men, armed with bows and swords, stepped out from the darkness of the forest, she wasn't entirely surprised. "Hello gentlemen." She cooed, stopping in her tracks and drawing her daggers, "what can I do for you this lovely afternoon?" She continued, keeping an eye on the three in front of her. The tallest man, a dark-skinned and exotic looking fellow spoke up, his voice thick with an accent Imoen couldn't place. "Nice to find you so cooperative, m'dear." He replied, grinning and showing more than one gold tooth, "why don't you come a little closer and we can talk out of the rain, like civilized people?"

"No thanks, I like it right here." She said, and, much to the smaller men's surprise let out a torrent of Magic Missiles. Laughing the large man held up a hand and the magic dissipated before it got within five feet of him or his companions. "Well, I must insist then." He spoke, his smile reminding Imoen of the crocodilians she often read back in Candlekeep, to give Merrick nightmares with. Four strong arms suddenly grabbed her from behind and she tried to whirl around to meet her attackers, but found herself kicking as her legs left the ground. She guessed Kneve and Kivan were right: she had been off the road for too long. Held immobile in her captor's arms Imoen fixed the ringleader with a deadly stare and spoke, "what do you want?" She asked, her voice shrill, but full of hate and power. "Just for you to play ransom with us, my dear girl, that's all." He spoke, crossing the distance between them. On his arm she saw a band with a black emblem stitched on: two serpents circling around a scimitar. "Welcome to the Black Vipers, Imoen, we trust you'll be a good little girl and come quietly. We wouldn't want to remove that tongue of yours and scar up such a pretty face. Oh wait, someone, it seems has done that for us." He laughed, fondling her chin with his long knife. "I'm Crastkin, nice to finally meet you…" Imoen stayed silent, but lashed out at Crastkin with her legs, frantically. He added, "Bring her," to the two who held her. And, funnily, as the six of them disappeared into the falling darkness of the forest, all Imoen could think of was. "Damnit! Why am I always the one getting kidnapped?"


End file.
